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platinumshawnn · 4 months ago

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Bound by Blood and Fire — Benjicot Blackwood x Tully!oc (pt ii)

A/N: hi! I really dragged my heels on writing this next part because I love to procrastinate. I actually cut a scene from this because it was already running pretty long. Also a *brief* little masturbation scene randomly weaseled its way in there, lol sorry. Content warning??? I did my best to proofread but I probably missed stuff, also please know that I’m aware Oscar is a brunette in the show, he’s a redhead in the books ✨

Synopsis: Elmo and Oscar Tully arrive at House Blackwood to be debriefed on the finalized terms of Serra’s and Benjicot’s betrothal. Tensions among the houses rise as Serra receives support from her father and yields to giving Benjicot a chance. As their engagement is announced to the other houses, news of murders in King’s Landing highlights the broader conflict looming over them.

General content warnings: MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexual content, mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation.

Word count: 8.8k

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Serra Tully could only describe Benjicot Blackwood as repulsive if she had to use one word — the kind that made her nauseous, gray in the face sick at the very idea of him.

"To my dear Lady Serra, who I am told, has a tongue as sharp as her needlework. Pray, let's hope she proves as skilled with her wifely duties as she is with her embroidery."

His voice, paired with that stupid smile haunted her as she lay down in bed that night, struggling to find sleep with her eyes stuck to the ceiling. Paired with brother’s laughter, the comment was more horrifying as her face burned with embarrassment — if it were possible, she would have left right then and there; packed her belongings back up, and returned to Riverrun. But she knew that upon arrival, her father would have been furious and only dragged her back.

“Have you no honor?” Her father would sigh, frustrated and red in the face.

Even with all the pleading and reasoning, this was not something she could talk her father out of -- this wasn’t some feast, some meeting of the Lords. This was a marriage pact that he and Kermit had meticulously planned out and negotiated, and there was no amount of foot-stomping or yelling she could do to undo that. At some point during her sleepless night, haunted by the smug grin of Benjicot, did she consider the idea of running away and living in the trees -- but she had no survival skills for the wild and knew she wouldn’t last a week out there. She had considered fleeing to the North, but from the stories she had heard of its cold, harsh winters, she knew she wouldn’t thrive there. And King’s Landing had become no man’s land and she didn’t want to be stuck there during these times. It would only be a matter of days before her father and brothers somehow heard of her presence there, either way and would have her dragged right back.

The only comforting thought would be the arrival of her family, despite her anger towards her oldest brother and father, she felt it would be of comfort to at least have a face around that she recognized. And Oscar -- her dear, little brother Oscar would at least be neutral and she could convince herself someone was at least on her side.

She had only been lucky to catch brief bouts of sleep, lasting no more than a half hour each time before she was startled awake by a shout from the distance; once again, awake and staring at the ceiling, before she was roused by a young girl who looked about her age as the sun rose. Its light streamed in through the windows, bringing with it warmth, a nice break in the dreary weather that had been terrorizing the Riverlands for weeks.

She had dressed with assistance from the same girl whose name she had learned was Grace, her gaze out on the fields and limbs heavy with exhaustion, needing several reminders to lift her arms or to move throughout the process. As she had finished dressing, she was summoned for breakfast, nodding feebly and barely audible as she thanked Grace, before the young blonde girl had nodded and withdrew from her room. She wasn’t even hungry, but she went regardless.

Still, even at breakfast, as she poked at the eggs on her plate that had been paired with fish, did she imagine what would happen if she were to flee. Would anyone notice? If so, how long of a heads-start would she get before they came searching for her? Would they even search for her? Or would they just accept things as they were and betroth one of her younger cousins to Benjicot in her place? She wondered who it would be if they did, maybe Rose? Elisa? Elisa, even at the tender age of ten-and-four was already beautiful, with her long blonde her and light eyes, an exuberant young woman…

“My lady?”

Her head snapped up to where another young guard stood opposite of her at the other end of the table, staring at her. Her gaze instinctively scanned down the length of him, a habit to observe that she had — young and handsome in the face, Serra wondered if it was just custom at Raventree that the staff and its people were all striking and easy on the eyes. He stood silent, waiting before he spoke again upon a receiving a simple hum and raise of her brows in acknowledgment, “Your father and brother have arrived. They are in the yard if you would like me to take you to them.” He said, voice deep and smooth as velvet.

Her gaze dropped to her plate, her stomach churning in rejection at the thought of eating anything more than the three bites she had managed to take. She nodded, standing from her seat with a loud drag of the heavy chair, removing the napkin she had placed in her lap and dropping it over the plate. Folding her hands at her abdomen, she walked around the chair and table to approach the young guard who watched her movements, “Yes, please.” She softly said.

He turned with a curt nod in her direction, only a few paces ahead as he led her through the doors and into the halls, the walls of the keep otherwise silent aside from their footsteps as they walked out the front doors. He led her down the steps, heading towards the gardens onto a path where they turned right onto, before soon met by the familiar sight of the back of her younger brother’s head; his red hair shone in the sun, dressed in his finer clothes with his back to her as he spoke to another guard, gesturing to the pastures that stretched out for miles. With a nod to the guard who stopped abruptly, she offered a hushed ‘thank you’ before hurrying past him.

“Oscar!” She called, his head whirling towards her voice.

A smile lit up his face at the sight of her, apologizing to his companion. He hurried towards her, a brisk walk as he reached out to meet her hands that stretched out towards him, relief washing over her as she tore her hands from his and hugged him.

“Sister?” He laughed, obviously confused by the sudden gesture.

Though Oscar did not push her away or even cringe away from the gesture, instead awkwardly embracing her with a pat on her shoulder, she sensed his confusion. She pulled away, met by his curious gaze, sighing, “It is good to see you again.” She said, taking one of his hands in hers, “It is good to have a face I recognize here.” She admitted.

Oscar let out a breath, chuckling and squeezing her hand, “It is good to see you too.”

“Come, walk with me.” She said, dragging him around as she walked past him and grabbing his elbow with her right hand, “Tell of your journey. How are things back home?” She asked, excitedly as bright eyes stared at her brother, giddy. Oscar laughed once more and allowed her to lead, walking alongside her as they followed the path away from the house.

“It has only been two days.” He said, teasing her.

“It feels as though it has been weeks.” She said, waving him off with her free hand.

His nose scrunched with a smile, rolling his eyes at her theatrics. They walked, her gaze on his face, more than happy to hear of anything but her engagement for the first time in days. He caught her up on the events that had transpired in her short time away, everything down to an alleged spotting of Brackens at the borders between lands; hiding in bushes, but that their cousin and his friends had seen them. A fleet of Blackwood men had pushed them back and issued a warning, according to her brother. She hummed, nodding along and smiling brightly as they walked, content to get out of the cursed walls of Raventree; it almost felt as though nothing had changed and the whole betrothal was nothing but a nightmare. She could have even convinced herself this whole trip was nothing more than just a friendly drop-in.

“What of Grandsire?” She blurted out, interrupting him while her hand clutched Oscar’s forearm as they walked, his head turning towards the entrance of the estate, scanning as though he was worried someone would overhear as he cautiously eyed the guards that seemed to stand at every corner. His shoulders lifted subtly in a shrug, gaze not quite yet returning to her as she looked straight ahead and followed his pace as they walked.

“He is not well, as you know.” He reminded her, though it was not new news to her, the man had been on his deathbed for what felt like years, “But…”

“But?”

Oscar shrugged again, his head turning finally to look straight ahead as well, scanning along the path that was surrounded by lush greenery — Raventree’s yards much better maintained than theirs back home.

“I heard him and Father and Kermit speaking a few nights before your departure, from the hallway…” Oscar began to explain, her head turning to look at him, his eyes casting a side glance at his sister, “He wishes to support Aegon’s claim to the throne. However, you know our father’s stance. And Kermit’s.” Oscar said, his words slow and hushed to a volume only they could hear, his head turning fully to look at her.

If times were different, this kind of betrayal could have had more serious implications — the very act of overthrowing their grandfather, the Paramount Lord of Riverrun, undermining his authority, his very word. If times were different, he might have even pushed for punishment by death if it was in his authority, being that he had been such a hot-tempered man as long as she could remember — he’d maybe seek out another heir, not that he was short of any. But instead, he was just a mere man now, sickly and on his deathbed, aged and too frail to even raise a hand. Serra nodded, silently.

Serra preferred Oscar’s presence more than Kermit’s. He understood the value of comfortable silences, not filling them out of obligation with empty comments. When he did speak, it was of intelligence, conversations that had sincere depth to them, knowledge and wisdom that flowed so effortlessly. There was no awkwardness, no prying to get an answer. He understood that sometimes she just preferred not to speak. She felt that any tension that clung to her shoulders melted away and she could breathe in his presence and that she could speak freely.

“Brother tells me you are not happy about your betrothal.” Oscar stated, his eyes ahead as they walked among the gardens, her own drawn to the bushes of flowers just beginning to bloom, silently sighing at the subject, “Your groom, I suppose.” He added, though there was a lilt to his voice that hinted at his own amusement.

“I take it you knew of their plans.” She pointedly accused, turning to look up at him on her right.

She could see the corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile, his shoulders shaking with a laugh, “And you did not think to warn me?”

“I did not think you would mind…I believe Kermit himself suggested the uncle of Lord of Frey -- Aldean, I believe his name was. A widower, fifty-and-two years of age.” He explained, still teasing his older sister, who did not share his humor over the matter as she abruptly stopped, pulling her arm away. He turned to look at her, met with a frown, “Oh, come on, sister. I only jest.” Oscar said, reaching for her to encourage their walk to resume, however, he sensed her seriousness over the matter and realized there would be no continuing their walk anytime soon. Not until she’d gotten this out of her system.

“I do not find that very funny, Oscar.” She stated.

“My apologies, sister. I didn't mean to upset you.” He sighed, turning to face her. “But I truly did not think it would be much of an issue.”

She let out a curt laugh, her expression one of bemusement, “That I would be sold off to the highest bidder, as nothing but a broodmare? Condemned to a life of squeezing out as many heirs as possible?” She ranted. Her brother appeared horrified by her words, eyes widening as he stared at her, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He closed his mouth, blinking rapidly a couple of times and composing himself.

“I assure you that is the last thing Kermit and father wished for you.” He sincerely tried to reason with her, stepping towards her.

“They’ve condemned me to a life of misery, forced to marry a man who despises me, Oscar.” She snapped, her voice a hiss. “A man who only means to humiliate me and drag my name through the mud for no reason at all. He made that very clear in front of Kermit last night, and he laughed! This…monstrosity was not born of honor or respect, but rather a man’s pride and their want for more power, I am just some pawn to entertain that idea.”

Oscar hesitated before grabbing her upper arm, beginning to drag her further down the pathway of the garden suddenly, hushing her as he glanced behind them towards the guards who appeared to have been alerted to her rant and had eyed her as she spoke. They crossed the yard, and though she attempted to wriggle from his grasp she was left unsuccessful, confused, and angry as he dragged them another several feet before releasing her, “What do you think you’re doing?” She snapped, stumbling back a step when he released her. He looked at her.

“You’ve every right to be angry, but need I remind you you’re a noble-highborn lady, sister.” He suddenly interrupted, her mouth open and ready to spew more angry rants. “Do you understand what that means? You’re invaluable, especially now. Especially amidst a war that hangs at our front doorstep, that is sure to bring bloodshed that neither you nor I could ever comprehend. Now I am sorry that Benjicot is not the match you’ve always wished for, but you are a highborn lady-- you have as much a part in this as any of us. I do not mean to scare you but pull your head out of the ground.”

She gawked at him, eyes wide and processing his words, reflecting on events of the past few weeks. Surely, she hadn’t been naive enough to think that the moment Aegon took the throne as a usurper, she hadn’t expected any less -- that a war of some degree would happen and her brothers and father would be called to the frontlines. But something about the urgency of his tone, the underlying fear there both in voice and face, sent shivers down her spine as she deflated.

“Sister, listen to me. This was not an easy choice for either of them, I have listened to them these past weeks. But please try to see reason-- this is a time of uncertainty…of fear for even the toughest of men.” He said, closing the gap between to grab her hand, holding it between his as she stared at him, a frown of confusion etching itself into her features, “There are rumors from Kings Landing of Prince Lucerys’ death, some saying that it was one of the King Viserys’ own children who have slain him…”

“What?”

Kinslaying, in the walls of King's Landing.

“Listen to me!” He snapped in response to her interruption, sighing. “Rhaenyra means to build an army, we have been called upon. The Blackwood’s too, Serra. We will be expected to march to war any day now..”

She began to withdraw her hand, turning to look back at Raventree and trying to recall where they had entered the gardens from, beginning to hurry from their spot in the yards, “I…must see the father. Surely, these are just rumors.” She muttered, turning from her brother, Oscar’s face falling as he watched after her in a state of despair, his eyes filled with worry as he clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to say anything more than a quiet plea of her name.

He had said enough.

—

Serra stood by the doors of the grand hall, watching as her father and Samwell quietly conversed among themselves for what felt like eternity. Stood silently, clinging to whatever corner she could without getting in the way as the house staff rushed about, preoccupied by last-minute preparations ahead of the feast confirming their betrothal to the other houses — in a mere, short hours, everyone in the Riverlands would know that she and Benjicot Blackwood were to be married; a Tully to a Blackwood. Everyone from Raventree, to the Brackens and beyond once word spread. Her father would be sure to make it an occasion to be celebrated, as grand and extravagant as he could muster in these times.

There was a moment where he had caught her eye, mid-conversation with Samwell. If pride and joy could be embodied into the form of a person, she could have assumed it would have been him right then, a broad smile on his face and looking at her as though she could do no wrong; as though she had just ended the war before it could even take place and that of any others in the future — she wondered how diluted he had to have become since leaving Riverrun, convincing himself she’d wanted any part of this — Enough that he could suppress his supposed guilt and smile at her like that?

Serra forced a tight-lipped smile in return while burying any hint of anger that bubbled inside her, instead maintaining her polite attitude and quiet as she allowed the two older men to finish their conversation in the meantime. She clutched her skirts and tucked herself as far out of the way as she could, picking at her nails and watching as the room came together, adorned in hues of burgundy’s, silver, and grey, lavish and extravagant.

It was only once the arrival of guests had begun did they break apart, all smiles and handshakes as they parted ways, that her father turned and made his way towards his daughter. That same soft smile that radiated pride on his face while he reached out for her hands, “My little dove.” He greeted, taking her hands into his as he looked her over, “I hope your journey was a smooth one and your brother’s company to be kind.” Elmo said, his voice laced with sincerity as he eyed his daughter; his gaze prying at the last half of his sentence.

She drew in a sharp breath, voice small amidst the noise as she replied, “It was…tolerable. Long.” She admitted, her gaze following a young servant boy who barely looked of age as he rushed in with utensils to be laid out at the table, his eyes straight ahead.

His stare remained on her, scanning her face and noting the tension in his daughter’s features, a contrast to her usually calm demeanor as he gently squeezed her hands to regain her attention. She looked back at him suddenly, gaze dropping to their hands with her mouth pursed, his eyes trying to find hers, “My dear,” he said, head lowering slightly as his concern became palpable by her uncharacteristic behavior. “Something troubles you.” He pointedly stated.

He watched her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, one that was held and let out from behind clenched teeth. She looked up at him and once again in the direction of the table where a young girl was placing down napkins, straightening them with meticulous accuracy to ensure that each piece of fabric was placed identically; the red stitching catching her attention…

“Come, let’s walk and find somewhere to speak where there might not be as many distractions,” Elmo stated, releasing one of her hands and beginning to guide her in the direction of the doors with one arm coming around her shoulders.

Serra looked up at him, nodding as they walked. She withdrew her hand from his and found his elbow, her other clutching at her skirts to pull them away from her feet, a measure to keep from tripping over the fabric that reached the toes of her shoes; her head down and allowing her father to guide them, offering pleasantries to a pair of councilmen they passed. He led them around the corner and down a hallway, Serra’s shoulders relaxing with relief as they’d found quiet — the hum of workers and chatter, a faint hum in the background, birds chirping from the yard, and the occasional shout from children playing somewhere in the gardens. The hallway was lit by natural lighting from the still bright skies, lined with windows that were almost thrice the size of her; their ledges up to her waist as they walked. After a few minutes of peace and using the opportunity to breathe for the first time since that morning, Serra was reminded of her conversation with Oscar, her eyes out the window to her right and stiffening again.

“Tell me what bothers you, dove.” Elmo suddenly said from her left, her hands clasping together around his elbow; fidgeting with a ring on her right hand.

“You did not tell me you were summoned to war.” She stated, turning her head to look at her father, whose features softened and morphed into a look of sorrow.

“Because we haven’t…not yet, at least.” Elmo honestly replied, watching his daughter’s face intently, searching for any sort of emotion that could pinpoint her feelings, even a twitch of her lip or a squint. “I did not think it to be of any concern. I figured you would…become too engrossed in your wedding planning.” He continued, letting out a sigh as he covered her hands with one of his own, her own two hands enveloped by one of his with ease.

“Why send me away now?” She asked, voice quiet and childlike. “Why not let me stay? Help somehow?”

“You are helping, dove— by being here.” He assured, stopping their pace to pause in the middle of the bridge that overlooked the yards. He looked at her, “This is how you help. By being here— the sacredness of marriage and creating alliances that will help us in the days to come, that is your battle. Securing our house’s future, my dear girl.” He softly said.

Her eyes stung with tears that welled up as she sucked in a breath, a flurry of emotions swelling in her chest— the anger, grief for what could have been if things had been different, the sadness. The fear and dread.

“I know this is not what you wanted and I am sorry for placing you in this position against your will. And I am sorry for putting the needs of our house over your happiness,” he said, taking one of her hands into his and squeezing it gently as he lowered his head, ensuring he was eye-to-eye while they spoke, “But I know you will be safe here, even when I cannot be here to see to it myself.”

“And what of you? Of Kermit and Oscar?” She asked finally, “Of grandfather?”

Elmo’s mouth pursed into a line, stress lines creasing themselves deep into his face, “I will continue acting in your grandfather’s place, he’s too…old and senile to act in his better judgment. I would sooner deal with his weakened wrath than that of Rhaenyra’s dragons.�� He muttered, patting her hand, “Kermit is to marry Lyanna Grey and Oscar to Margaery Chambers by year’s end.”

She looked away, looking back out the window behind her and towards the fields beyond the gates of Raventree, an ache in her chest at the thought of her brother’s facing the same fate she’d been doomed to; forced into a loveless marriage, “Is this what mother would have wanted for us? To marry strangers, without knowing what it was to be loved in return?” She quietly asked, unable to meet his gaze as her head turned and she found herself staring at her feet, fidgeting under his stare.

Her words could have broken his heart then and there, the sight of his daughter so distraught. Duty aside, Elmo Tully had never been a cruel man and loved his children dearly.

“No…” he admitted honestly, “she would not have.” He quietly added.

Serra let out a laugh under her breath, a bitter sound as she slid her hands from his and fidgeted with a stray fabric on her skirt. Elmo watched her for a moment, “And what comes from this marriage? What do we receive?” She asked, her tone changing to one more resembling anger, shaking as she spoke and looked up at him.

He pondered his next words, a deep breath being exhaled from his nose, “We have promised military and territorial support to the Blackwoods in addition to your dowry. They in return have promised a trade agreement for routes directly between the two houses, resources controlled by their house, and their military aid. They’ve promised troops and weaponry.” Elmo slowly explained to not overwhelm her, running through the negotiation that had taken weeks to come by. “Benjicot has promised to keep you safe and act as your sworn protector, which is the most important thing to me.”

Serra’s hands flung up with a sharp laugh, hardly able to believe his words as she turned and neared the ledge of the window, “And what might he protect me from, other than him?”

Her father stood back for a moment as she leaned into the ledge with her hands, a breeze passing through the corridor. He slowly approached her once he felt he had given her enough a moment to breathe, keeping some space between them and taking her left, looking out where she stared, “I know you two have not seen eye-to-eye in previous years and have had your quarrels. I recognize that it may not have been my best decision and may come as a betrayal.”

He said, looking over at her while her gaze avoided him, straight ahead, “I know it is daunting marrying a stranger, someone who you do not love or trust yet. When I first married your mother, I barely knew her. But over time, we grew to love and understand each other deeply. Your mother and I learned to support and respect each other through our journey together. You and Benjicot will have the same opportunity to grow and build a bond if you give things a chance to…grow.” He tried to reassure her, unsure if he was successful as she did not even glance at him.

He turned his head and rocked back and forth against the ledge for a moment, “I know he was not the best as a child, but he’s grown despite his antics. Kermit tells me last night did not go as he hoped, he and his father extended their apologies this morning.” he explained, earning another bitter laugh, “Benjicot is a good man though, with good values and he is loyal. In time I can only hope that he will prove that and you will come to appreciate his character.” Elmo said, suddenly drawn to the sound of grunts and wood colliding from beneath them, craning his head to catch a glimpse of a training pit that had been haphazardly built, two boys swinging their swords in a spar; his body turned towards his daughter but watching on as he spoke.

Serra turned to him finally, frowning, “You think he will treat me with the respect and kindness I deserve? Do you truly think he has grown? Because it seems like everyone else believes that to be true, but he’s yet to show me any signs of that.”

“I do.”

“And if you’re wrong?” She asked. “Then I’m to be doomed to a life of misery and suffering, married to a man who finds me insufferable?”

His gaze lifted from the spar below them, letting out a chuckle at his daughter’s rant and reaching out again to gather one of her hands in his, “You will be fine, I am sure of it.” He softly said, “While it’s natural to feel uncertain, trust that this union has the potential to bring joy and strength. Give it a chance, as I did with your mother. You have the support and strength of our entire family behind you. We will be here for you every step of the way, dove.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and though Serra was unsure she felt any more confident in Benjicot, she felt a sense of comfort in her father’s words. His free hand lifted to cup her face, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “You are a Tully, my dear girl. You will always be okay.” He muttered into her hair, backing up and releasing her hand. His gaze flickered towards the pit below them once more, flashing her a smile before he took his leave, brushing past her and returning in the direction of the hall without saying anything more and leaving her in silence, processing his words; picking at the edges of her nails, plucking at the skin.

Her interest peaked at whatever his eyes had found amidst the yard as a shout interrupted her thoughts.

Her gaze turned down to where her father’s own had been moments prior. She had to lean over the ledge of the window to see where his attention had been drawn to — there, her eyes landed on a dirt patch in a clearing of grass, a brown-haired boy engaged in a spar with another boy, circling one another with wood swords in hand; stripped down to their tunics as they trained, doublets long-since abandoned in the grass. Serra had never been one to take an interest in the hobbies of men, having never understood the fun of rolling in the dirt with faux swords, but as they turned slightly, her gaze was drawn to the taller boy of the two.

Benjicot. He turned, broad-shouldered, lean, and admittedly handsome Benjicot, whose gaze was transfixed intensely on his opponent — a boy she recognized as a cousin of his — with such focus, sword in his right hand. His sweat-slick face, red and flushed, pulled into a frown of concentration. She watched on as he swung the sword down on the boy opposite of him, the swords colliding in a crack! that echoed through the yard, causing his opponent to stumble back before the sword swung in his direction again; just missing his belly and leaping back out of its path. There was hardly a chance for his cousin to recoil from his attack, the sword once more being swung upwards and just missing his chin in the process. She could admit that Benjicot was not just another Southern boy, weak and existing behind false confidence — Benjicot was also powerful and fierce. He was a ferocious warrior in battle. He was an impressive force to be reckoned with. Suddenly, the thought of her brothers and father fighting alongside him on the battlefield did not seem as daunting or terrifying to think about.

She continued to watch on as his cousin stumbled back, holding his sword up and blindly swinging at Benjicot, who responded by lifting his right foot and kicking him by his chest onto his back with one swift blow; sending the male reeling backward into the dirt with a grunt when his head slammed back into the ground. Benjicot quickly stood over him, the tip of his sword being pressed against his throat, panting, “I thought you said you were going to take it easy today.” His cousin panted.

Benjicot withdrew his sword, the pair laughing as he offered a hand to assist him to his feet after a moment, “I did.” He replied.

The two boys quietly chatted amongst themselves for a moment longer, laughter echoing across the yard. His cousin -- Emrys, a boy she had met once prior -- laughed as he walked away from their place in the training circle with a clap to his shoulder, shaking his head at whatever Benjicot muttered as he walked out of sight and into the castle floor beneath her. Serra, however, lingered; watching Benjicot now, who was seemingly unaware of her presence, go to the grass to pick up his doublet and a spare sword that sat beneath it. His back had been turned to her as he wiped off the swords of dust, his gaze cast out on the field that was slowly being engulfed by dusk for a minute.

She began to recede from her spot after a few minutes more passed, hoping to turn and leave before he even had the chance to see her. However, she was unsuccessful in her feat as he turned around abruptly, eyes turning their attention up to the balcony she stood on and meeting her gaze as she flushed with embarrassment and remained frozen to the spot -- there was no hiding the fact that she had been watching him now, looking down at him. His mouth twitched, the lines in his face appearing for half a second, but gone just as quickly as though what she assumed was a scowl threatened to surface as he held her gaze.

Instead, he bowed.

“My lady.” He muttered, standing upright before striding back inside; her gaze stuck on the spot where he had been.

She blinked, glancing behind her once, the fact dawning on her that in moments, he would be in her hallway and she would be face to face with him. She clenched her fists, embarrassed enough as is and red-faced, beginning to hurry back to her chambers; the sound of footsteps echoing from the staircase as she passed them. If the Gods were cruel, they would have had her run right into him, but if they had any mercy to spare her--

Her thought was interrupted, slamming her door behind her and pressing her back to it, wide-eyed as she stood there, struggling to hold her breath to be as quiet as possible. She listened carefully to the hallway, able to make out the sound of footsteps approaching her door. Surely, he had not come to confront her? She hadn’t done anything wrong.

The footsteps slowed to a complete stop just beyond her door, halting there, just outside. She tensed up completely, eyes closing as she silently crept further into her room and away from the door, praying the floor would not give away her presence as she slowly walked towards the center of the room; hand over her mouth to silence her heavy breathing and glancing towards the door to see if she could make out any feet beneath the door. Though she could not see anyone, even as she bent over at the waist and strained her eyes, she could still sense their presence.

The footsteps suddenly continued, walking past her doorway quickly and receding down the hallway until she could no longer hear them, free to breathe and finally relax. What in good God's name was he doing? Was he just hellbent on tormenting her, by stalking around the castle like that? Surely, this couldn’t be the same man her father thought had changed and grown out of his tactics of terrorizing her as a child.

She continued backing up until her knees met the frame of the bed, her hand dropping away from her mouth and letting out a sigh as she sat down.

—

Benjicot did not even wish to join the feast.

The thought made him feel sick, doing everything in his power to prolong his having to head down to the dinner hall that had been busy with servants finalizing decorating, and setting up before they began greeting guests — he could hear the chatter from his chamber, and if he looked outside, stuck his head out the window and turned his head just right, he could see them coming and going with supplies. On the other hand, he knew if he was too late, his father would sooner have his head on a spike — there seemed to be no winning for him these days.

Rather than feed into the dread that sat heavy in the pit of his stomach like a ball of lead, he chose to busy himself with tasks that had value to them, tasks that would busy his mind — rather than twiddle his thumbs, he organized and skimmed through his old history textbooks; previously a stack on the floor in a corner of his chambers. Rather than chew his nails, he chose to seek out Emrys and train. But even that had not done much for him, coming face to face with one source of his anxiety — feeling her gaze watch his every move. He could feel his shoulders tense, realizing someone was watching him from somewhere behind, and coming to find the Tully girl on the balcony that overlooked the training ground; reeling back when he turned. The very sight of her caused the taste of bile to crawl up the back of his throat, anger bubbling up inside him that he was forced to push down, somewhere deep within him.

He could still hear his father’s voice, his hand at his neck and warning him whenever he saw her — and then that stupid look on her face when he had come out of the doors the night prior. Pitiful and sad.

He hadn’t even realized he was doing it, coming to her door and stopping outside of it, unsure what possessed him to follow her there — he didn’t have anything to say to her. He didn’t need anything from her. Maybe he just wanted to look at her again. Benjicot could hear her footsteps from beyond the door, creeping further from him as he could presume she was trying to get as far away from the door. And just as quickly as he had slipped into a daze that found him at her door, he shook it off and stormed back to his room, fists balled at his sides and jaw clenched.

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling of his room, the servants coming and going meanwhile, with their gazes down as they retrieved soaps and oils for the young heir before hurrying out as quickly as they rushed in without a word. The room soon fell into a silence as he sank into the tub, embracing its warmth that worked to ease the tension in his muscles with his arms laid out over the sides of the tub, and clutching the ledges with a white-knuckled grip — he should have found it relaxing…the silence and the warmth the water provided. But the past twenty-four hours had left him too on edge to think of anything more than the war, his father’s words…his soon-to-be-bride. His head turned, leaning against his right shoulder as his hand released the tub, watching his fingers flex, stretching out before clenching into a fist.

Benjicot had never pictured himself to be much of a husband. As a boy, he understood the duty of it — of marriage and honor, the need for heirs to keep their house strong, their future line secure. That was the value of it, after all. Was security. Built through hundreds of years of alliances, marriage pacts, and children that would follow the path of their father and their father before him. Just as Benjicot’s father had done at the young age of ten and six.

Benjicot did not remember much about his mother — he did not even know who she was before all the grief and illness that kept her confined to her room, as his father had avoided the topic of her much throughout his childhood. After trying to ask about her time and time again after she passed when he was ten-and-one, Benjicot gave up. Of the very little he could manage to get out of his father, he knew that she had struggled in childbirth with him, that she had reached for him, brought him to her chest, and uttered her love for him. Benjicot resembled his mother in a lot of ways — he was a splitting image of his sweet mother but had taken his father’s hair color. She had been born a Lannister and married into the Blackwood’s, barely sixteen herself; well-spoken and confident. Benjicot knew his father loved her, even if he did not say it aloud.

He could recall the pain in his eyes whenever he pressed the subject to know her better, dismissing him as a boy and ending the conversation at that.

“She loved you.” Was all he could offer.

Benjicot had heard whispers, too. That there had been at least four stillborn and two miscarriages before him; wracking her with guilt and grief that left her bedridden for days on end. His father had spent weeks trying to coax her from her room, taking her meals to her. There had been one more stillborn after him and that had been it, the final straw. That was the only version Benjicot had come to know — the empty shell of a woman, who sat by her window, looking out over the pastures for hours at a time with empty, sunken in eyes, struggling just to eat the least amount of food she could. She was skin and bones, and Benjicot feared that if he had hugged her too tight, she might crumble in his arms. The sight of her that last year frightened him honestly.

He shook off the thought, sinking further into the tub until the water lapped at his chin, knees bent up and out of the water to accommodate the short tub that was already a tight squeeze for him. If that grief and that pain and agony was part of “honor and duty”…Benjicot wanted no part of it. He had distanced himself from the subject of marriage after his mother’s funeral and had avoided any mention of it as best he could. The horror he felt when his father had gone behind his back and forced his hand was undoubtedly made even worse by the prospect of his bride.

A girl who could barely look him in the eye, more fascinated by bugs and creatures than to have had the decency to introduce herself when they first met. He could recall her mother having to introduce her, bent at her side and reminding her daughter of propriety; only then did she quietly speak her name, covered in dirt. Benjicot could have forgiven it if she had taken to something like swordsmanship and training in battle like his aunt had — a skilled warrior with an arrow, but instead, she collected bugs.

Surely, she’d had a say in their match, as well.

The very idea perplexed him that she would even choose him after everything. Benjicot had never been shy of making it known that he could not stand her as children. Even if they had both grown up and changed since he still could not see the reason behind it or what she had to benefit by choosing him. Benjicot Blackwood was a man who needed to understand and have an answer for everything.

Benjicot was not unaware that she had grown much since they had last seen each other. He also could not deny that she had taken a likeness to her mother’s beauty, having grown into her looks in womanhood — she could not have been short of her pick from potential suitors who would have given her the time of day, asking for her hand. She was by means not unlucky in looks. She had less interest in playing with bugs that crawled all over her these days, too. The very fact that he could not make sense of it frustrated him to no end; instead, thoughts of Serra Tully stirred a feeling in his belly, ones that spread across his chest that he could not quite place a finger on — a mix of fury and…something more.

He sat up abruptly with a growl, water splashing around him and over the ledge of the tub; spilling over onto the wooden floors as he cupped some of the water between his hands and splashed it into his face. His hands carded through his hair, tugging at the roots as he let out a sigh that echoed off the walls of his chamber, slumping back against the tub — this seemed to be his only safe space, away from the suffocating reality of the expectations placed upon him, laying heavy on his shoulders. It was doing little to rid him of the thoughts that plagued his mind if even just for a moment.

He stilled, frozen and unmoving as a thought crossed his mind. His right hand, which had found its way back to the ledge of the tub, slid underneath the water, his hand slipping between his thighs and taking his cock into his grasp— confident he would have some time at least. He was desperate for some kind of distraction at this point, a last-ditch effort to soothe his mind as his hand moved with languid movements against himself, head hanging back against the headrest as his eyes closed and he started to relax for a moment; attempting to lose himself in the lewd act. His mouth dropped open with a sigh, the early flickers of arousal beginning to burn in his belly as his hand increased pace, chest rising with a heavy breath—

“My lord.”

The door shot open with minimal warning, Alistair’s voice interrupting the silence as he entered the room, coming to an abrupt stop at the door. The sudden interruption caused Benjicot to shoot upright in the tub, hand leaving his crotch and gripping the tub once more to pull himself forward, hissing, “Fuck!” He shouted, heart pounding as he panted, a hand dragging over his face, “What? What is it?” He snapped hurriedly, humiliated.

Alistair stuttered for a moment, visibly flustered as Benjicot turned his head slightly to look at him; hair falling into his eyes that he quickly brushed back. He nodded, “My apologies, my lord, I--…” he said, pausing. “Your father and the Tully’s have already been seated in the great hall. As have your guests. Your father has asked for you.”

Benjicot was still trying to bring down his heart rate when he nodded, waving him out dismissively, “Thank you.” He grumbled.

Alistair nodded once more at the heir, gaze down as he turned and rushed from the room, allowing Benjicot to finally slump back again; face burning from the humiliation of their interaction.

—

The feast was loud and dragging on.

Benjicot had arrived and been greeted by the familiar faces of the many other houses of the Riverlands, painfully aware they were not oblivious to and noted his lateness as punctuality had not a trait that he had ever been known for since he was a boy. He had become quite practiced at avoiding their gazes as he took his seat, not bringing any further attention to himself than was necessary -- or at least more than already was. It had been no secret that the feast was hosted on his behalf, specifically emphasized in the letters that had been dispatched by Raven two days prior, and he could have only assumed that everyone had some inkling of what had brought them together. Samwell Blackwood was not a man who cared for hosting events as grand as this occasion had turned out to be often unless it was of high importance, and it had been no secret that he intended to find a wife for his son. Even glancing around, Benjicot could have counted at least a half dozen of the Lords who were within arms reach who had offered their daughters hands since he was ten-and-six, his face buried in a chalice of wine and scanning the table.

His father, although he had announced his arrival with feigned pride at the sight of the boy Lord, Benjicot could see the hint of a discontented frown from the opposite end of the table when he entered. He had remained silent, however, relieved but unsure if he preferred the silence over a scold, leaving him on edge the entire night.

It didn’t help his nerves that the only chair that had been saved for him was nestled right in between his father and his betrothed at his right, with Elmo sitting across from him on his father’s left, Kermit across from Serra. He had balled his hands into fists at his side during the walk to his seat at the head of the table, bowing his head with a muttered greeting to the Tully father and son who offered pleasantries among the hum of conversation. Meanwhile, Serra’s eyes had remained down at the table, hands in her lap, demurely sitting beside him and only briefly catching his stare when he muttered a quiet greeting to her while pulling out his chair and sitting down.

They remained otherwise silent, the quiet that had befallen them only broken by his father, spiraling into Elmo and Kermit making conversation by recalling stories of their childhood. Benjicot sat with his elbows on the table in front of him, hands clasped together while his chin rested on his knuckles, humming and letting out a chuckle sometimes in response to certain memories, his eyes otherwise scanning the table and the guests. He watched the way they became rowdier with more wine.

His thoughts were interrupted by the clink of a cup, his father standing from the table. The table finally silenced for the first time in hours, eyes watching his father with anticipation as he held his chalice high.

"Lords and ladies, esteemed friends and allies, it is with great pleasure and honor that I stand before you tonight. In the spirit of unity and the strengthening of bonds between our noble houses, I am delighted to announce the betrothal of my beloved son, Benjicot, to the gracious and noble, Serra, daughter of Lord Elmo of House Tully.” Samwell announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the room. He paused, looking down at the young couple who looked up at him, his gaze landing on his son and nodding to himself before he continued, “May their union bring prosperity, joy, and enduring friendship to our families. Let us raise our glasses in celebration of this auspicious occasion." He finally finished, looking back out at the table that erupted in applause and cheerful exclamations of agreement.

Benjicot, however, sharply inhaled; fighting the urge to scowl as he looked into his nearly empty cup, hiding his stare as his father began to sit down. In the corner of his eye, he witnessed a guard come forward, Alistair standing over his shoulder when Ben’s eyes lifted briefly to look over and see him muttering something into his ear; witnessing the moment his father tensed up.

“Excuse me, pardon-- I…” Samwell said, standing up again.

The prying eyes of the room remained on Samwell as he nodded, the guard stepping back and towards the wall where he had planted himself. The Blackwood Lord slowly turned his attention back to the table that had fallen silent, awaiting his next words, his cool stare shifting around for a moment before his mouth opened once more, “My apologies for disturbing your supper once again,” He begrudgingly stated, “It has been brought to my attention that…the Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen was murdered in his bed last night.”

It was at that point that all hell broke loose, his words met with a gasp from somewhere at the table before the table erupted in men’s anger and uproar at the news. Meanwhile, Benjicot watched his father slowly sit back down in silence, the prior joy on his face now replaced by a stoic expression; visibly drawn back into his thoughts as Elmo spoke up, “Gods be good... Pray that he went quickly.” He quietly muttered, his hand tightening around his chalice as the chaos raged on in light of the news.

“Yes…” Benjicot blurted, his gaze meeting Elmo’s from across the table, the latter of whom had gone for a drink from his cup; glancing between the young lord and his daughter who was visibly shaken by the news, her hands now clenched on the table. Benjicot could make out in the corner of his eye as she looked over at him, turning his head just enough and looking down at her left hand that was closest to him. He released his cup, setting it down against the table, and reached across to lay his hand over hers as if to comfort her though he could feel her stiffen. He disregarded her reaction and turned back to her father, “Pray that his suffering has ended.”

Benjicot watched as her father stared at their hands, glancing again between them before he visibly relaxed at the sight and nodded in response to his words. He wasn’t certain his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he saw the small hint of a smile on Elmo’s face, thrown in the direction of his daughter that was brief before he looked away. Serra’s hand quickly withdrew to drop into her lap, her gaze bearing into the side of his face as he lifted his chalice then with the now free hand and took a drink -- he only meant to gauge her reaction, get some hint of his prior question on her motive. He let out a ‘hm’ into his cup, his eyes casting left and meeting hers, his eyebrows shooting up. She looked down.

He had an answer he could work with at least.

TAGLIST: @tannyfairy @username199945, @cxcilla, @thethiccestdaddy, @deltamoon666, @drwho-ess, @callsigncrushx , @clarityisnofun @jhepolie, @juhdoche @majoso12 @roseheart5 , @nixtape-foryou , @poppyflower-22 @accidentpronedork

#davos blackwood #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood fic #hotd 2 #house of the dragon #kieran burton #benjicot blackwood imagine #hotd #house blackwood #benjicot blackwood masterlist #benjicot blackwood x reader #davos blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood x oc #davos blackwood fic #benjicot x reader

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overrboarrd · 2 months ago

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sanctuary: prologue

firefighter!roman reigns x azure clarke [oc]

warnings: death/mentions of death, sibling loss, spousal loss. please read at your own discretion. this story is for audiences 18+ so minors please dni.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: finally getting the ball rolling on this one! I don't wanna say too much but this is just the prologue, first chapter will be posted this week. it's a bit heavy, but I hope y'all enjoy it!

•───────────•

August , 2024

•───────────•

Azure stood in front of the memorial stone, the rain mingling with her tears. It had been three years since that day. The folded flag from his funeral was still tucked away in her closet, along with the wedding ring she no longer wore but still kept. The life they built together had become nothing more than shadows, painful memories she carried like an anchor.

The third anniversary of his death—a life taken by violence while serving in the line of duty as a police officer, leaving Azure a widow far sooner than she ever imagined. She replayed the warm afternoon in her mind, the way time stopped when she opened the front door and saw Officer Ford and Officer Hayes, heart shattering when she learned her husband wasn’t coming home. It was her undoing, that moment. The moment her world collapsed.

Every day since, she had felt suspended between two worlds—the one she had before him, and the emptiness that followed his death.

After years of sleepless nights and well-meaning condolences, Azure couldn’t stay any longer. The memories of him haunted every corner of their old home, every familiar street in the city. She could no longer bear to walk down the paths they had once strolled together. Her grief had become suffocating.

The papers were signed, her resignation submitted to the hospital where she had worked for nearly five years. In the morning, she would pack up the last of her things and drive away from this chapter of her life.

Azure bent down to lay a small Polaroid from their wedding day on the grave, her hand lingering on the cold stone for just a moment longer. She whispered her goodbyes, feeling the weight of her decision settle on her heart.

“I’ll always love you,” she said, her shaky voice barely above a whisper. “But I have to go.”

As she turned to leave, the wind carried her words away, and with it, the first step toward something new.

•────────────────•

October, 2021

•────────────────•

The acrid scent of smoke filled the air, and Roman’s heartbeat echoed in his ears, faster than he could control. The fire raged, crackling louder than the sirens blaring around him. Flames licked at the sky, casting an eerie orange glow over the street.

Roman watched helplessly as the house crumbled, swallowed by the inferno. Fire hoses sprayed water in all directions, but it felt like nothing could quench the flames. In the chaos, one thing was painfully clear—Daniel was still inside.

He had already gone in once, like the hero he always was, emerging with a small bundle in his arms: a little girl, no more than two years old. Daniel’s face was soot-streaked, eyes wild with determination, but Roman saw the flicker of fear in his brother’s gaze. He had saved her, pulled her from the flames in time.

Roman had rushed toward Daniel when he stepped out, relief flooding his body. “You got her, man, you got her,” Roman had said, barely able to hear his own voice over the sirens.

But Daniel wasn’t looking at Roman—his eyes were fixated on the burning house, the flames licking dangerously at what was left of the roof. He handed the little girl off to a paramedic, but his body stayed taut, muscles coiled as if he were preparing for another run inside.

Roman grabbed his arm, pulling him back before he could reenter the house. “Daniel, wait! The roof—”

“There’s someone else inside, I don’t have time, Ro!” Daniel turned to face Roman. Roman could tell something was wrong, but before he could question it, Daniel jerked his arm free, his eyes fierce and mind made up.

“Daniel, no!” He disappeared into the blazing house. Roman’s stomach dropped. He wanted to follow, but the walls of the house groaned, threatening to collapse. The fire chief shouted something over the roar of the fire, but Roman didn’t hear it. All he could focus on was the growing, gnawing dread that his brother wouldn’t come back this time.

The minutes dragged on like hours, each second ticking by with Roman’s heart hammering in his chest. And then—

A deafening crash.

The roof caved in, sending embers flying into the night sky like a thousand stars falling to Earth. Roman felt the impact in his chest, the air punched from his lungs. Shouts erupted around him, but all he could see was the house, now reduced to a fiery skeleton.

He knew. Even before anyone said a word, he knew.

Daniel wasn’t coming out.

Roman’s knees buckled, but he caught himself, stumbling forward, only to be held back by a fellow firefighter. “Roman, no! It’s too late!”

The reality of it hit him like a sledgehammer. His brother—his best friend, his blood—was gone. There was no heroic rescue this time. There was nothing left to save.

And then, a cry pierced through the night.

Roman turned toward the sound, eyes falling on the little girl Daniel had rescued. She was sobbing, her face smudged with soot, her tiny body trembling from shock and fear. The paramedic, wide-eyed and silent, stood holding the child out toward him.

Roman looked down at her. She was so small, fragile, barely able to understand the magnitude of what had just happened. In her eyes, he saw nothing but confusion and fear. She reached out, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in her world.

Roman held her close, cradling her as her sobs wracked her tiny body. He could feel the heat of the fire on his back, the devastation surrounding them, but in that moment, everything went silent.

He was left holding this little girl, the last life Daniel had saved.

She didn’t know what had happened. Didn’t know that the man who had pulled her from the flames was gone. But Roman knew. And as he held her in his arms, the weight of it hit him all at once. Roman stood there, his own tears mixing with the ash on his face, unable to process the magnitude of it all. He had just lost Daniel, but in his arms was the symbol of his brother’s final act of heroism.

“I’ve got you,” Roman whispered to the little girl, his voice cracking, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it to her, to Daniel, or to himself. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As the fire continued to rage behind him, Roman realized that he had been given more than just the responsibility of saving lives. He had been given this child, this tiny piece of his brother’s legacy. She had no one left now—and neither did he.

From that moment on, Roman knew.

He was her protector.

•────────────────•

Dear Brother, I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I miss you. It’s been a long journey, but I’ve finally settled in my new place. It’s quiet, not too far from the ocean. I never imagined I’d end up down here, but maybe that’s exactly what I needed—a fresh start, from everything. Things are… complicated right now. There’s so much I want to tell you, but I don’t know where to start. Just know that I’m okay. I’m figuring it out, one day at a time. I hope someday we can see each other again, in a different world maybe, where none of this matters. Know that no matter what, I will always love you.

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #firefighter!au #wwe au #roman reigns au

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pirateprincessblog · 2 months ago

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𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄

( 𝟎.𝟏 ) 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨:

normal is good. it's safe. it isn't risky. and yet, normal is boring. normal job, normal family, normal relationship. makes you yawn just while reading, doesn't it? escaping it can cost a fortune, even if it is for a short, fun amount of time. when it gets bad, you don't get to regret. you don't get to complain. you don't get to cry. you don't get to go back. you wanted it. now bear the losses of your own decisions. you'll wish for things to get boring again. you'll wish to never feel an ounce of excitement again. you'll wish to be wrapped in your safety bubble, with your safe little family, safe little job, and safe little partner. and it just won't come.

!𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x oc (alice dawson) x jung wooyoung 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hwa, collegestudent!wooyoung, love triangle, dilf trope, eventual smut, angst, fluff 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: yet to come

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of illness, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic violence, MINORS DNI (18+) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this series will be around 10-15 chapters :) please don't hesitate to leave feedback! thank you for reading <33 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

were you ever afraid of thinking about something risky while surrounded by people?

if yes, alice knows exactly how you feel. behind the dusty wooden counter, she hides a book. her eyes abandon the words she has read a dozen times this year already, checking if anyone is giving her weird looks. her thoughts are a loud mess, and she fears that one of those hard-working students might secretly have super hearing powers and is judging her right now. but when she notices no side eyes, her gaze drops on the worn-off pages again. this book set cost her a fortune, and it already looks like it has been through at least two major historical events. heaven forbid that her mother knows how much money she spent on that.

her heart beats faster with each word she reads, fingers excitedly flipping the pages, even though she knows all the plot twists, all the foreshadowing, a few little plot holes that only a small number of people have noticed. she wishes she could read it all for the first time again. the storyline, the characters, the villains, the twists, the tension, the steam. alice's favourite part in all the books. the steamy pages, written by her favourite author, making her sigh and roll in bed late at night as she reread them. sleepless nights spent with her eyes unfocusing and blurring out the words, her thoughts drifting away from the storyline and creating one of her own, using the very same characters. she would sit like that, fantasising, until a sound from the street would bring her back to the original story.

last night was similar, which is why she is barely keeping her eyes open while skimming over the room, checking for odd glares one more time. when she finds none, she continues daydreaming. the villain of the book has captured her heart, no matter the bad things he has done throughout the journey. she might just have a thing for evil, sassy, good-looking men. or she might have a thing for imaginary men with tongue skills.

"ah, your daily dose of porn, i see."

alice looks up, startled. she closes the book, throwing it in the already opened drawer and shuts it with a loud thud, making a few heads turn. the face standing above the counter chuckles, eyes turning into crescent moons as he does so.

"hush!"

"oh, relax. you have like three couples doing no-nos back there in the criminal section. your little mediocre book is nothing compared to them."

the girl furrows her eyebrows. her book wasn't mediocre. it was a masterpiece.

"what did you want?" she asks, annoyed with his teasing this early in the morning.

"i can't come and greet my favourite redhead in town?" the young man asks, his lips still in a teasing smile.

"not if you're going to be loud and disrupt. this is a library, not a bar."

"ha-ha. i forget just how witty my girlfriend is." he rolls his eyes. "luckily, you're pretty to make up for your lack of sense of humour."

"and your humour makes up for your lack of pretty." she tries to poke back, but it just doesn't sound right.

the young man laughs, sincerely, and rests his elbows on the wooden surface.

"you're cute when you try. you'd be even cuter if you were to join me in one of those horror sections. you know, to read. i love me some stephen king. i also love me some puss-"

"shut up, oh my god." alice hushes him, feeling her cheeks starting to burn from embarrassment.

"oh, come on. you haven't been over to my place in days. weeks even, i think."

"wooyoung," she exhales.

"yeah, sorry." the young man suddenly remembers, then scratches his neck from the little uncomfortable situation he has created. "how is your mom?"

"she has lost a lot of hair." alice says, eyes drifting towards the big library windows. "she has also lost a lot of weight. she still refuses to eat. she has already given up on herself."

wooyoung sighs, seeing his girlfriend show different emotions than last week. she has become numb to the whole situation. her mother has been sick for a very long time, and no amount of doctors, medicine, and persuading could convince her mother to start taking care of herself when alice wasn't around. now, alice has given up. she is angry with her mother, and that doesn't allow her to feel sad or bad for her.

"want me to come with you next time you visit her?"

"that would be today."

"yes, sure. of course. just tell me when."

"i finish at two, when rae arrives. i'll wait for you by the car?"

"i'll be there as soon as my classes are over. promise." wooyoung smiles at her.

there's a brief moment of silence, giving space for both of them to think. alice's mind went from fantasising to worrying, and wooyoung hates that he reminded her of the situation and changed her mood.

"baby?" he calls.

she hums, still a little absent.

"you haven't kissed me today."

alice looks at her boyfriend, heart swelling with guilt. her face drops, and wooyoung's eyes widen seeing her saddened expression.

"i'm so sorry," she says, voice almost a whisper.

"oh, no, no! baby, i just- hey, it doesn't matter. i'm sorry, okay? you're going through something tough, and my behaviour isn't quite helping. i'm being a dick."

alice stands up, hands gently cupping her boyfriend's face. her eyes examine his face, taking in his pretty features. she didn't mean what she said earlier, and she knows that he knows too. she smiles softly at him, assuring him that everything is fine and there is no need to apologise.

"i love you." she whispers.

and just like that, wooyoung softens in her hands, lips melting into hers as he finally kisses her for the first time in three days. it has become hard to catch her since she started working, especially since she runs to the hospital whenever she gets a chance. other times, she prefers laying in bed with little to no lighting, doing nothing but laying down and thinking of a way out of what her life has become.

wooyoung wishes he could help her. but what can he do, when they both refuse his help? he now realises where alice's stubbornness comes from. he smiles into the kiss, thinking about her stubborn nature combined with her impatience. she is a little handful, but she is his handful. and he will hold her until his last breath.

༺═━─━────༺༻────━─━═༻

while people tend to hate hospitals, alice likes it. it brings her comfort, knowing that the people around her are in charge of saving lives. she often visited hospitals as a toddler, due to often sickness. she is very prone to colds, and wooyoung has found himself getting mad at her very often because she refuses to wear a jacket when needed.

"but my outfit won't be visible!" she'd complain.

"i don't care. your kidneys are more important than a crop top. and i can't have you with a runny nose again. you know you have a hard time breathing as it is, the cold only makes everything worse."

"you just know it all, don't you?" she'd say, annoyed, while her fingers work the zipper of wooyoung's jacket.

jung wooyoung doesn't have any plans for the future, other than hopefully marrying alice and creating a family with her. he is a college student, yes. but only because his parents forced him to. he doesn't know what he wants in his life. alice is smart. she also doesn't know, so she simply didn't go to college. smart decision. it is crazy expensive, and managing those costs and the costs of healing her mother would be a disaster.

"ms dawson?"

alice stands up, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"dr clark, good day." she greets, smiling weakly.

"it certainly is a good one, ms dawson. your mother is finally showing improvement!"

alice stands still, not believing what she's hearing. wooyoung notices her lack of response, and gently takes her hand in his, hoping to shake her awake.

"what do you mean?" she asks.

"she ate everything she was offered today, and she took her medication. and yes, we checked under the bed and in the flower vase, there weren't any hidden pills."

"oh, well... that's great."

the sudden change in her mother's behaviour was suspicious to alice. still, she felt relieved. with a thankful smile and a nod towards the young dr clark, the girl took her usual path to room 257, her hand still held by wooyoung's bigger and warmer one. she pushes the door open, her eyes immediately falling on the bed in the corner of the room. out of four beds, only two were now occupied, meaning that the other two had gotten better and were probably at home with their families. it made alice's heart warm.

it made her heart even warmer when her gaze dropped on the woman in the last bed, her head hidden by what seemed like a beauty magazine. fresh flowers stood beside her bed, accompanied by a framed picture and what seemed like a jewellery box.

"mom?"

the woman drops her magazine in her lap, a smile so wide on her face that it made alice's cheeks hurt. god, she looks so different. it wasn't that long since alice's last visit, was it? the woman in the bed wore makeup, her grey hair braided, and a flower head band placed neatly on her head. her nails were painted a golden brown colour, resembling the autumn leaves that tapped on her window on windy days. she dared to say, her mother looked better than her.

"ally, my darling!" the woman calls, tucking the magazine under her pillow.

alice approaches the bed, sitting in the usual stool that was waiting for her under the elevated nightstand.

"eleanor," wooyoung greets, slightly bowing. "you look absolutely beautiful."

"oh, my, this boyfriend of yours. always a sweet-talker." the woman blushes, waving her hand at the young man. "you are so very lucky, baby, not a lot of boys your age are this sweet. let me tell you, just five minutes ago, amber's son came over, had a fight with her over their house and kicked her out! look, her suitcase is right there!"

"mom, please. can you be any more quiet?"

alice looks over at the other occupied bed, and truly, there stood a suitcase. luckily, the woman was sleeping, so she didn't hear her mother's little gossip party.

"oh, don't worry. the poor woman cried so much that she fell asleep from exhaustion."

silence swallowed the room for a while, eleanor fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. she knew alice had questions. and she dreaded that she had to answer them.

"these aren't the flowers i brought you last time."

"no... no they aren't." she trails, looking anywhere but at her daughter.

"so... whose are they?"

a mumble is heard, and alice raises an eyebrow at her. wooyoung catches a glimpse at the framed picture, but when he fails to recognize the people on it, he shifts his attention back to the woman. she looks at wooyoung, as if searching for a way out of the interrogation that is about to happen. but wooyoung sends her an apologetic smile, and rests his hands on alice's hair, moving it out of her face. he feels like she will need it. there is a reason why her mother is acting so nervous, and when alice is upset, she loves to have her hair played with.

"mom."

"hm? oh. right, the flowers. uh... they're from..."

"mom, cut the bullshit. i'm just curious. so what if a friend brought them over? you have a new crush in town? dr clark not cute anymore?"

"oh, no! dr clark is very cute. and very young. and he is married, sadly for me. no, these are from, uh..."

alice grows impatient, a frown already forming on her face. wooyoung senses her tense state, and gently drops his hand on her shoulder, massaging the knot below her neck. she sighs, and looks at him as a way of saying thank you. silent conversations were common between the two, and it just showed how well they read each other. how much they love each other.

wooyoung presses his lips to her temple, and gently caresses her back as her mother prepares to give an answer.

"so?"

"so what?" eleanor acts dumb, still hoping that alice will give up.

"mom. the flowers. the jewellery. the makeup. the nails. the picture."

the girl finally takes the framed picture. she recognizes her young mother, her bright ginger hair falling in waves on her shoulder, green irises almost invisible because of her big smile and closed eyes. the man, however, she does not recognize.

"from your father."

wooyoung halts his movements. alice sits still, her gaze not leaving the picture.

"what?"

"your father. he came every day since your last visit, and brought me all these flowers, made me the crown, even painted my nails-"

"i didn't know they let drug addicts inside hospitals."

wooyoung gulps, watching eleanor's jaw drop at her daughter's numbness to the new situation they have found themselves in.

"isn't that, like, very unsafe? for both parties?"

"you shut your mouth, right now. your father is a good man."

"he is not my father, and he is certainly not a good man."

the woman's face twists into one of anger, hands turning white as she grips the sheets she's covered with. "he is your god damn father, whether you like it or not."

"he is a scumbag. that's all he is. and, he is the reason you're here. isn't it? have you forgotten?"

"alice..." wooyoung tries, but stops when alice raises her hand as a sign to stop talking.

"didn't he throw you down the fucking stairs and smash your head through the window?"

"that was years ago, alice. you were barely four."

"and yet i remember."

"you're acting as if he killed me."

"he drugged you all the time! and you became an addict, just like him!"

the dark past resurfaces so easily, pulling both women under it's veil and swallowing them with grief. so many tears spilled, so many bruises earned, and so many cuts treated. alice was only three when it all begun, and she still wonders how it all escalated so quickly in a span of just three months. from only name calling and occasional yelling, to full fist and kick fights and screaming for help. only for her mother to go back to him, too afraid and in love to let go. and each morning the same. three months of alice finding herself in crossfire, earning new bruises every other day, and crying all night long.

she loved her mother, and she loved her father a little less every day. strangely enough, there used to be days when the house was as peaceful as it used to be before her father became what he became. she didn't know why, or how. all she knew was that she was grateful. and that whatever pills dad was slipping mom in her drinks and food were, they worked, and alice guarded them in the cupboard with her life. years later, she realized what the pills were. pills, powder, injections, you name them. by the time the monster left the house, the woman was already hooked. she craved more, and more, and didn't have any. who was at fault for that? alice.

alice was the first thing eleanor saw in the morning, and the last thing she saw in the evening. she was there, consistently needing attention, food, love. and eleanor was exhausted. she just wanted her happy pills. and what other way to express your frustration, than to punish a child who just doesn't shut the fuck up?

wooyoung presses a kiss on her head, in hopes of pulling her out of her memories. he knew that she was thinking of old times, of the man from the picture. and he knew that won't do good to her.

"what did he want?" she calmly asks, fidgeting with the frame. she wished for nothing more than to burn the picture, and throw it at the old house, letting it burn the pain away. if only it worked that way.

"why do you think he would want something?"

"mom."

eleanor sighs, in disbelief. or defeat. wooyoung can't tell yet. she looks around the room, trying to find the right words so she wouldn't further hurt her daughter. though the damage was already done, and wooyoung couldn't see how she could further worsen it. until she opened her mouth again.

"he asked for money."

"what?!"

"but look, i-it's just for a new place, so we can all be together again!"

"what?!?!"

alice stands up, head in her hands and legs carrying her hurriedly around the room. wooyoung plops down on the nearby empty bed, feeling his heart swelling at the sight of his loving girlfriend lose control over her emotions. but he knows better than to interfere. he just needs to let her do what she needs to do.

"alice, please. i just want a family. a proper family."

"well you sure as fuck aren't getting that from him! how much?"

"what?"

"how fucking much?!"

"all of it! god, just stop screaming at me!"

now the other woman was the one holding her head, while the younger one shot her head up wide-eyed.

"all... of it?"

"yes, yes! all of it! he wants to create a better future for us and you're acting like a fucking lunatic for no re-"

"you- you bitch."

a gasp escapes the young man's mouth, and he looks over to the woman in bed for her reaction. she grits her teeth, trying to keep her composure. wooyoung notices how red her eyes have become, and how glossy they look. she is trying her best not to let her tears spill, but the more she looks at alice, the less control she has. she watches as her daughter grabs the picture and smashes it on the floor. when alice grabs her shoulders and starts shaking her, screaming in her face, she loses it. big drops roll down her cheeks and neck, ruining the makeup she had so carefully put on.

wooyoung hated that he couldn't help. the best way of helping was to stay back and do nothing. no matter what he said, it would only light up the fire in one of them, if not both. so wooyoung settled for glancing over at the stranger in the other bed, giving her a nod as a sign that everything is okay and that she doesn't need to worry. he doesn't know if it managed to calm the woman or not, because he gets pulled into the mess by eleanor. she grabs his wrist, pulling him closer as if asking for help.

"wooyoung can't help you right now! let go of him!"

"wooyoung, please- please! i only wanted to make it better for us-" she hiccups through sobs, desperately clawing at wooyoung's hand.

alice yanks his hand out of hers, and when a loud slap echoes through the room, wooyoung decides it is time to finally step in. alice might get mad, hell, she might even slap him too, but he doesn't care.

"alice." he sternly says, grabbing her shoulders.

"no, we're not doing this! wooyoung, i am breaking my back every day, i am working overtime, running here making sure she eats and stops acting like a child, only for her to give away all my hard work for empty promises?! to who?! a man who doesn't even recognize me anymore?!"

she is furious. she sees red. no amount of comforting from wooyoung's side will make her calm down.

"take me home."

"are you sure-"

before wooyoung can finish, he can only catch a glimpse of her dark red locks bouncing as she rushes out of the door, slamming it shut after.

"wooyoung, please talk to her."

the man sighs, torn between the two women. he hates this. letting people down. but more than that, he hates letting his girlfriend down.

"i'm sorry, eleanor. there's nothing i can do."

he gently picks up the picture from the floor, careful with the cracked glass, and places it on the nightstand. he glances at the older woman one last time, before sighing and following his girlfriend's path.

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buckysgrace · 2 months ago

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Flufftober 2024

All of my fluff stories below, hope you enjoy!

Billy Hargrove

Treat, Please! - Billy Hargrove/Fem!OC (Billy and Kim take their kids trick or treating.)

Strings and Rats - Billy Hargrove/Fem!reader (Billy helps you decorate your classroom for Halloween.)

The Lifeguard - Billy Hargrove/Fem!reader (You end up wearing a matching costume with your ex at a party.)

Sweet, Cherry - Billy Hargrove/Fem!OC (Billy and Kim spend an afternoon baking for a Halloween party.)

Steve Harrington

Sleepless Nights - Steve Harrington/Fem!Reader (Steve and you celebrate your first Halloween with your baby.)

Apple Dumplin' - Steve Harrington/Fem!Reader (Steve takes you apple picking.)

The Silver Storm - Steve Harrington/Fem!OC (Steve and Daphne watch scary movies. The power goes out.)

Bad Rotation- Steve Harrington/Fem!Reader (Your plans with Steve gets ruined when the kids need a ride)

Gator Tillman

Pumpkin Picking - Gator Tillman/Fem!Reader (Gator helps you pick out the perfect pumpkin.)

Corn Stalks- Gator Tillman/Fem!Reader (On your first date with Gator, you two get lost in a corn maze.)

Time with You - Gator Tillman/Fem!OC (Gator and Daphne get their kids ready for Halloween)

The Hunter and the Deer - Gator Tillman/Fem!Reader (Gator and you announce your relationship at your parents Halloween party.)

Dividers by @strangergraphics

#billy hargrove #gator tillman #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove fluff #Gator Tillman fluff #Steve Harrington fluff #Gator Tillman x fem!Reader #Gator Tillman x reader #Billy Hargrove x reader #Billy Hargrove x fem!reader #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #Billy Hargrove x y/n #Gator Tillman x y/n #Flufftober #Flufftober 2024

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satosuguswife · 1 year ago

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HIS SISTER | PROLOGUE

━━━━━━━━━━

Series Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue

Pairing:

Poly!SatoSugu x Toji'sSister!OC

Summary:

A story about Tenka Zenin, the little sister of the man dubbed as the “Sorcerer Killer'' - Toji Fushiguro. Just like Toji, she is also blessed, or cursed based on how the Zenin clan sees it, with heavenly restriction.

Content:

Toji sibling fluff to angst, No SatoSugu yet, The Zenin clan being shit

Word Count:

2,059 words

A/n: feel free to request AUs for this through the asks :> if you want to be tagged for this story just leave a comment or ask

━━━━━━━━━━

Ten years after Toji Zenin was born, came a little girl. She was named Tenka - meaning heaven and flower. The clan hoped she would be better than her brother but to their disappointment, it was another failure. The Zenin clan all thought that except one - her brother. While the rest of the clan looked at her as another stain to their name, her brother saw otherwise.

At first, Toji just pitied the pile of flesh that was unfortunately born into the vile clan. But when he held her for the very first time, it was also the first time Tenka ever opened her eyes. Toji feared that she would cry the second she saw him but to his surprise, she giggled as she reached out her dainty little hands to him. It was at that moment that Toji saw her as his light.

Life was not kind to the two siblings as they suffered from the constant berating insults of their own clansmen and the disappointed stares of their parents. Although that did not matter as long as they had each other by their side. Unbeknownst to them, their time together would be cut short on his 14th birthday.

———

"Aniki!" The 4-year-old girl shouted as she ran into her brother's arms. "Look! I made you a flower crown made from the Azlea flowers that grew in the gardens for your birthday!" Tenka beamed at her older brother, proud of the gift she made him. Toji chuckled at his sister, grateful that she remembered his birthday. It wasn’t common for him to be noticed but that was one thing Tenka never failed to do; after all, they were each others’ world.

They walked through the clan grounds as Tenka babbled to Toji about random stuff she thought of. The sun soon set and painted the sky with hues of gold. Toji stopped by the stairs and sat on them while they watched the sunset.

"Aniki? What's your wish?"

Toji's eyes widened. No one has ever asked him what he wished for on his birthday or even any day. For once in his life, someone bothered to know what he wanted. He softly patted his sister's head and spoke. "I wish to see you happy and safe Tenten." Silence swept the air as the siblings didn't bother to speak a single word and enjoyed the peace, but little did they know it would soon be ripped away from them.

———

The eerie silence cuts through the night as an unknown man spoke with the head of the Zenin Clan - the father of Toji and Tenka.

“We’ll pay you any amount you want. All we need is the kid with the heavenly restriction.”

“You can have the girl. She has no use for us anyways.”

The two men shook hands and sealed the deal that would forever change the lives of the two siblings for the rest of their life.

“Let go! Help me! Aniki! Please let go of me!” The cries of the young girl were left unheard as she was dragged away from the place she called home by men she knew nothing about. Marks of blood were left with every step she took from her wounded feet. Tenka struggled and tugged her arm, trying to break free from their grasp but it was all rendered useless.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the estate, Toji lay restless on his bed. ‘Why do I feel like something is wrong…’ he thought. He tossed and turned but to no avail, he still felt wide awake. Minutes passed until he finally decided to take a walk and see if Tenka was awake. It was not out of the ordinary for Toji to feel sleepless at night, which is why he brushed his suspicions aside. Unfortunately, he was sorely mistaken.

The moment he reached Tenka’s room, he realized then and there that he should have trusted his instincts the moment he had it. The room was a mess - the picture frame that held a picture of Toji and Tenka was now shattered on the floor with blood staining it. It seemed as if someone stepped on the broken shards of glass. Having seen this, Toji was now in a panic.

‘What happened?’

‘Where is Tenka?’

‘Is she safe?’

All these questions swirled inside the mind of the 14-year-old boy. Toji never feared anything - not his clan, not his brother, and not even his father, but for the first time in his life, he was terrified. He ran out of the room shouting his sister’s name, not caring whether or not he was bothering the people in the estate. He searched for hours but he never found her. He knew that his last resort in finding his sister was asking his father. He knocked on his father’s study and to his surprise, he was still awake.

“Come in.” a gruff voice came from behind the door.

Toji never liked his father and neither did Tenka but unlike her, Toji never hid his hatred for the man. The two glared at each other the moment Toji stepped in the room. Toji wasted no time and asked. “Where is Tenka?” Their father sipped on his tea, simply glared through his cup. Toji, irritated by his actions, jogged to his father and slammed his hands on the desk. “Answer me old man! Where the hell is Tenka?!” The older man set his cup down and stood up. “I sold her. She was useless anyways.” He spoke as if the girl that was sold off wasn’t his daughter.

Toji stood there in disbelief. He looked at the man before him with pure resentment. “Well? I answered your question, now leave.” The man dismissed his son without even taking a glance at him. Toji left with a heavy heart. If only he listened to that voice in his head, and now he is forced to live a life without the one and only person he cared for.

———

Screams and cries echoed through the room as men strapped down Tenka on a table. She thrashed as much as she could to try and escape her bindings but this all stopped once she felt a painful sting across her cheeks. Her hair was grabbed, forcibly turning her head toward her captor.

"Stop thrashing around little girl. You will never escape, for you will be my little secret weapon"

Tenka could only stare through her tears in horror at the madman who cackled about all the experiments he would do on her. All to form the deadliest human weapon in his disposal.She suddenly felt something pierce her neck and a groggy feeling washed over her body. No longer able to feel her limbs, Tenka had no choice but to slip into the inky void of unconsciousness.

For several years, Tenka was stuck in an endless cycle of suffering just so that she could be the perfect human weapon. The sorcerers that held her captive saw potential in a child that had heavenly restriction, especially one that had no cursed energy at all, because everything comes with a price. The price for having no cursed energy is heightened physical attributes. The group of sorcerers thought that the Zenin clan was stupid for ignoring the children that could open up new opportunities for them.

For days on end, they put Tenka into experiments that would leave her wishing to be in the arms of death. Dosing her with different kinds of poisons so that she could build immunity against it, grueling hours of harsh training that left her with large cuts and bruises, and even going so far as to give her meals that could rival the taste of wet rags covered in vomit.

———

It has been 9 years since Tenka was taken from her clan’s estate and it felt like she had gone through all the 9 rings of hell during those years. Until one day, it seemed as if the gods finally heard her prayers for the past years because they at last brought someone to get her out of the hellhole.

It happened after Tenka had gone through the day’s experiments. As she laid unmoving on the cold floor of her cell, she heard shouts and screams from outside her cell door. “Someone has breached the facility, all security personnel are requested at the ground level immediately!” Tenka heard a guy shout through the intercom. Tenka’s eyes widened to this information. She dragged her battered body near her door and started slamming her fist against the metal. She called out for help, shouting for someone to save her amidst the chaos, despite her dry throat already screaming for her to stop.

Suddenly the door opened and all hope in Tenka’s eyes faded as it was the man in charge of her experiments that stood in front of her. He grabbed her by the collar and lifted her up, a sadistic grin plastered on his face. “You really think you can escape me little girl?”. The man cackled as he threw her to the ground and looked down at her. “You will never leave this place until I’m done perfecting you! Never–!”. His words were cut short as a blunt side of a katana hit the back of his head knocking him out cold.

Tenka looked in fear, unsure whether he had good intentions or not, at the man that stood before her with katana in hand. He looked as if he was in his late 30’s. He had black hair with gray eyes and was dressed in a black button up paired with black slacks. He crouched down and reached out to her, only to pull away once Tenka flinched. “Hey kid, let’s get you home hm?” He smiled while reaching her hand out to her. Tenka, once hearing this, immediately hugged him and cried in her arms - thinking she was finally saved.

The man could only look at her in pity after seeing her current state. The man walked through the facility, removing anything in his path just to make sure he brought this kid out of the building and into safety.

———

The middle aged man didn’t bother on reporting first to the higher ups about his mission. Making it his first priority to get home and take care of the girl. The moment he opened the door to his home, he was greeted by a gasp. His wife stood there in shock to see her husband carrying a wounded girl. She immediately rushed to them and ushered them in. “Oh my god! Is she alright? Are you injured?”. The man nodded. “I’m fine dear, but the girl… Can you help her?” He asked his wife, looking down at the child in his arms. The wife nodded and went to get supplies to help the young girl. The man walked to their spare room and laid the girl on the bed. He sat on a chair by the bedside, waiting for the woman to come in. The woman came rushing in and immediately tended to the girl.

After tending the last of Tenka’s wounds, the woman sat and tried to talk to her husband on what happened to his mission. “Honey… What happened? Where did the girl come from?” she looked at him in concern as she put her hand on his thigh.

"I just found her there… they were keeping her – experimenting on her. Based on the files I got in their lab, it seems she has been there for 9 years, my love.." The man spoke in a sullen tone as pity paints over his wife's face. He gently but firmly held his wife's hand and looked her in the eyes. "Love.. you can say no to this but… is it okay for you to let us adopt her? This can also be a way for us to finally have the kid we always wanted…" His wife only smiled. "I'm fine with that, my love." The two looked at Tenka with a smile, ready to take care of her as if she was their own.

From that day forward, Tenka's life finally changed for the better. No longer will she wake up to the horrendous cycle she called life for the last 9 years as she was now with the two people who would bring her unconditional love and happiness.

━━━━━━━━━━

Series Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue

━━━━━━━━━━

Taglist:

@cdej6

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porcelainhrts · 10 months ago

Text

🕸️ | Prophetess! Reader x MK

• "Born" from a tree at the Wu Shi Academy, you were found by Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi after Kung Lao's hat sliced a nearby tree that revealed a human inside which is you.

Raiden huffed as he wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead after finishing his daily training with the monks. From the corner of his eye, Kung Lao enters with a huge grin, wider than usual. It made him suspicious. What genius idea does he have in mind now?

And as if the younger could hear his thoughts, Kung Lao beams as he pulls out a razor hat. How the hell he made it, Raiden won't even ask.

"That doesn't look safe," he points out, leaning away cautiously.

"it's genius, Raiden," Kung Lao waves his hand dismissively, trailing his fingers along the hat's sharp edges. He does so carelessly and cuts his fingers, earning himself a hiss and a sigh from his friend.

"See? I told you."

Kung Lao raised a smug brow and the hat was sent flying around, faster than the wind as it cuts through everything it comes across. From the practice dolls, to the stands, and even the tall old tree on the side. The monks ducked, some jumped, few froze, but the genius man stood confidently with pride as it flew back at him, proving his point.

"That's a pretty deep cut," Johnny laughs amusely at the demonstration but as he zooms the camera on the tree's wound, his face drops and his eyes squint.

"I know I'm not much of a plant expert, but I do know plants don't bleed."

Kenshi scoffs. "Has the loss of money and fame driven you insane, Cage?"

"Hey!" Johnny yells, his expression changing from amusement to annoyance. "I have not fallen from stardom!" he claims.

"It's only a temporary setback! When this is all over, I'll eventually find my way back! Like everyone does! When they're lost," he adds as if reassuring himself, his face filled with determination and confidence.

A silent clash ensues between the two and the air tenses as they shoot daggers at each other with their eyes, Johnny's smirk taunting yet Kenshi's brow is threatening. "No, it's really bleeding," Raiden, who has been silently observing, breathes out, staring bewildered at the tree, his eyes wide in confusion.

"Look," he says, pointing to the tree's trunk, which still bleeds profusely.

And as the four men eye the said scene, it is no mistake that the tree is indeed bleeding . The scarlet liquid dirties it's clean wood and as they approach closer, little sniffles could be heard from inside.

"Call Lord Liu Kang."

• You were found nestled within the tree, unconscious and malnourished, with no memory of who you are and how you ended up there or why.

• The first few nights at the Wu Shi were filled with sleepless nights, bothering you with blurry yet bothersome enough to keep you up awake and pacing around your room. Some were concerning, some were scary, and some you would rather not speak of.

• Having enough of all the pent up feelings, you turn to the only thing you knew: weaving. Despite having no recollection of your memories, you knew how to weave— and in those carefully woven fibers tells stories yet to manifest.

• You truly wished not to bother Lord Liu Kang about your weird visions for he had already done enough to provide you a new home, but when you awake from yet another nightmare to find him before you, you knew you can no longer keep it to yourself.

• Despite how weird your story may seem, the God seemed to be unbothered. In fact, it may be small, but you can see the tug of his lips as you speak. You wonder if he knew about this.

• You wanted to ask but a part of you held you back, and so Liu Kang ends the conversation with a "you should get some rest."

---

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: I know her introduction isn't really canon compliant, but let's just pretend it is. Originally, this was written for an oc and is purely self indulgent, but hey, why not let others in on the fun. I apologize if there are grammar mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. I would also like to apologize for the shitty writing because I'm not really a writer. Also, if I were to continue this, I still have no one in mind to pair her up with— comment if you have any suggestions.

#mortal kombat x reader #liu kang #kung lao #mk1 raiden #johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #afab reader #kinda ooc

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myteavsricochet · 1 year ago

Text

Favorite firstprince fanfics, an incomplete list:

One shots:

All the Stars We Steal From the Night Sky :

Alex is quiet, and something is wrong.

Or, Alex struggles with emotions and Henry is there to help.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically Just Them Being Soft, Alex is struggling, Henry helps)

In His Wildest Dreams

Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. Pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process.

(Please, look at the tags carefully, this fic is very soft, very hot and very consensual but may not be for everyone: Consensual somnophilia, Kink exploration, Porn with feelings, Smut)

5 times Alex called Henry baby ‘casually’ and 1 time it was (definitely) because of love

How did “baby” become a thing in the film universe? When did it become a thing in the film universe? Fine, I’ll answer these questions myself.

(Additional Tags: Overuse of the word "baby", Pet Names, Fluff, Angst, 5+1 Things, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort)

Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

Alex has always been too much. Objectively, he knows this. He talks too much, his volume is too much, and the fire under his ass is too much. So, when he’d met Henry, when he hadn’t cared about Henry’s opinion and had been his real, authentic, annoying self, and Henry had liked him anyway? It was something Alex struggled to wrap his head around. It started in kindergarten.

Or: A look at Alex's childhood and how hard it is always being the too-much person in any given room.

(Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Childhood, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, So much comfort)

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces

Oscar gets in close and bluntly asks, “Earlier. In the bathroom. Did you do it?”

Alex scoffs, “No. Don't be a perv. Why would you wanna know that anyway?”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Mind out of the gutter, chamaco. Did you propose?”

Ah.

Henry is introduced to the extended Diaz side of the family at their matriarch's birthday. Shenanigans (and romance and feelings) ensue.

(This fic is absolutely amazing ❤️

Additional Tags: Humor, Fluff, Family Fluff, Pre-Engagement, Mexican-American Culture, Mexican OC's galore, Drinking, Family Bonding, Karaoke, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Alex Claremont-Diaz Speaks Spanish)

Forty-Four Days

"God, I haven't seen you in forty-four days," Alex suddenly spits, and Henry feels the pain of his words in his own chest, like ice replacing the blood in his veins. Because that's it, isn't it? Forty-four days of separation. Forty-four days of waking up to an empty bed, of making coffee along with his tea only to realize that Alex isn't there to drink it, of long meetings without any of Alex's witty jokes, of cold hands on chilly autumn walks because Alex isn't there to warm them up.

Maybe it's the simple fact of hearing for the first time, or maybe it's the tipping point of the taxing day, but Henry feels something inside of him snap, and —

And all he knows is that he needs to see Alex now.

(Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Separations, Separation Anxiety, Late Night Conversations, Minor Character Death, but it's nothing to worry about I PROMISE, Reunions, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Mild Sexual Content, they love and miss each other, that's the plot, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

A Mind That Never Sleeps

Five times Alex stays awake with Henry, and the one time he coaxes him back to sleep.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Insomnia, Sleepless nights, Piano, Weddings, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, that's really all this is, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

talk too much

Alex has his wisdom teeth removed and Henry takes care of him, fluff ensues

(Additional Tags: wisdom teeth removal, not bloody or graphic, just fluff, pure fluff, No Angst, Henry Pov, firstprince, living in the brownstone, FLUFF I TELL YOU, Henry taking care of Alex, and Alex taking care of Henry too hehe, You’ll see)

silk and steel

Thanks to a welcome day off, Henry and Alex spend a lazy morning in bed. Soft, mid-morning cuddles escalate into semi-soft, mid-morning sex.

(Addictional tags: Morning cuddles, Morning sex, Body worship, Light dom/sub, Praise kink, Established relationship, Top Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Bottom Alex Claremont Diaz)

I don't wanna dance, if I'm not dancing with you

"You want me at a ball?"

"I want you with me as often as possible," Henry says, immediately, as if it's obvious. Maybe it is. "But yes, it would be nice to have you there. I'm not necessarily actively trying to anger my grandmother, which you being there might, but... Well, she hasn't exactly extended an invitation but I have just as much right as anyone to bring a date and--"

"Baby." Henry's rambling stops short on what nearly sounds like a gasp, and Alex grins to himself. Sometimes, his boyfriend is too easy. "Do you want me there?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be there."

----

or, Henry wants Alex at a ball and Alex is anxious about it.

(Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Ballroom Dancing, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Hurt/Comfort)

If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me, You’ll Be the First Who Ever Did

Henry feels himself aching for Alex—this Alex, the one who’s at home in Texas, the one who’s vulnerable and free—and he sees the ache reflected in Alex’s eyes.

The first night they spend at the lake house, before Alex wakes up with Henry's swimsuit tangled around his elbow.

(Additional Tags: Emotions, Anal Sex, Bottom Henry, alex calling henry baby, henry calling alex love, Boys In Love, Porn with Feelings, Henry Pov, so it's a wee bit angsty)

love dares you, to change our way of caring about ourselves

Henry has read it all: fairy-tales of princes and their courters, unsung histories of kings and their secret lovers, and he has read all their happy endings. But he is not a prince in a fairy-tale, and he has always thought his own secret love story was likelier to end in tragedy.

Perhaps it’s time that changed.

(Or, Henry’s POV the morning after The Great Claremont-Diaz Ambush at Kensington Palace)

Let Me Hold Your Head in My Hands

Alex has a migraine.

Henry takes care of him.

(Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, Boys In Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Idiots in Love, Headaches & Migraines, Tooth-Rotting Fluff,Domestic Fluff, Bathtubs)

you would not believe your eyes (if ten million fireflies)

Alex and Henry are staying at Alex’s house in Texas. Henry has never seen fireflies before, and Alex can’t let him get away without the experience of catching one.

Or,

Alex is helplessly in love with Henry.

(Additional Tags: Fluff, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Summer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, firefly catching, Fireflies, Lightning bugs, Texas)

Promises, Promises.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes again.

The corner of Henry’s mouth does the thing it does. His walls are back up.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he mutters, before turning on his heel and marching down the hall.

——

Alex has never felt so horrible. And 3 days is a long time.

(Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Fights, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Stressed Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Anxiety, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Abandonment Issues, Leaving Home)

The Red Side Goes Up

Henry brings home a little something new to try in the bedroom. Or: The One Where Alex Gets Jealous of a Butt Plug.

(Additional Tags: Smut, Rimming, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Post-Canon)

(all of me changed like) midnight rain

“They’re fighting again,” he whispers instead. Henry’s eyes are sad.

“I know, love.”

Or, 5 times Alex believes his relationship with Henry won't last, and 1 time he knows it will.

Or, 5 times Alex doesn't believe in love because of his parents and 1 time Henry proves him wrong.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Canonical Divorce, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Song: Midnight Rain (Taylor Swift), Depression, References to Depression)

We'll Get Together Then

5+1 times Oscar was a good dad to Henry (ft. Abuelo Oscar)

(Additional Tags: Henry and Oscar bonding, 5+1 Things, I have Feelings about their relationship, Arthur's death is mentioned)

The Bet

Looking back at it, it's all Nora's fault.

Or, the time Henry and Alex bet on who can last the longest without sex.

(Additional Tags: Bets & Wagers, No sex bet, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but it gets resolved eventually, Wet Dream, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Porn With Plot, like it kind of has a plot, Mostly just porn though, Kissing, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Riding, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Switching, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

What Kind of Day Has It Been

Even after thirty-odd years of being together (twenty-five of those married) Henry still has to drag Alex away from his desk and up to bed. Even just a few days after routine surgery Alex can't help himself.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Kissing, Married Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

take a bite, babe

And, well, Henry can no longer lie to himself. He couldn’t be more in love with Alex if he tried.

Or: five moments Henry notices Alex’s eyelashes (and falls a little more in love).

I miss you, i'm sorry

"I—I’m killing myself trying to make this work, trying to make both you and my family happy, living on planes, and it’s still not enough for you? I don’t know what else to do.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s so hard for you to be with me,” Alex says bitterly, wiping furiously at his eyes and refusing to meet Henry’s.

"Alex—"

“No,” Alex interrupts angrily, “get it off your chest! I can’t wait to hear all about how much work I am to be with. You know what, if you’re just gonna leave me again then you might as well go ahead and do it now. Save us both the hurt.”

Or: the fight.

(Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Fighting, Healthy Relationships, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Comfort, Healthy Conflict Resolution, Conflict Resolution)

Too Much

Okay, so maybe Alex talked too much for them. It was fine. He could still sit with them at lunch, he just had to make sure not to talk so much. Just listen to them. He could do that.

The next day, and the day after, Alex sat with the same group of kids. Only, he no longer went on rants about movies or books or what he saw on the news that morning or what his parents talked/argued over at dinner.

Alex stayed silent, desperate to not be too much.

***

OR 5 times the people in Alex's life thought that he was too much + one time Henry assured him that he wasn't.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Projecting, author's first fic)

the common tongue of you loving me

Where did kissing come from? Henry has always wondered. Why kisses? At the beginning of history, which long forgotten person, which ancestor of all mankind, was the first to press their lips to another’s in a declaration of their love?

Was it a lover, perhaps, so consumed with devotion that they sought to use lips as well as fingertips? All followed the base urge of their bodies — the innate knowledge that the pressing of lips was the highest form of touch. But no one knows why.

Except when Alex quirks his cupid’s bow, licks into Henry’s mouth and lets his bottom lip rest on Henry’s, and oh. Henry knows.

(Additional Tags: Kissing, henry has so many feelings about kissing, Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, Frottage)

All Your Closets Of Backlogged Dreams

It’s not that the loss of the President’s oldest child is a secret. It’s just that nobody talks much about the death of Catalina June Claremont-Diaz.

It takes Alex years before he talks to Henry about her.

(The painful story no one asked for that ties June into the movie.)

(Additional Tags: Past Character Death, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD)

i'm so in love (i might stop breathing)

He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, eyes half-lidded as he looks at Alex. He rests his head on Alex's chest, tightening his arms. Alex can see the tips of his ears turning pink.

"It's ! H G E J F M W C D 2 4 !" he mumbles in embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of Alex's neck again. A beat of silence.

Then, almost shouting in joy, Alex yells, "Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor- Claremont-Diaz! That's your fucking password?"

"Shut up!" Henry hisses and Alex feels so many butterflies in his stomach that he's going to throw himself off of a cliff. Really, teenage girls with celebrity crushes have nothing on him at this moment.

or,

Henry is drunk and Alex is so in love he could die.

(being with you) makes the flame burn good

“Ah, would you look at that,” Alex says hoarsely, breaking the kiss, “Looks like you got a bit of batter on your neck.”

He lowers his head and licks a stripe up Henry's neck until his tongue reaches the spot below his ear and Henry shudders slightly in his arms.

“Tastes so good, baby,” Alex teases and fits his thigh between Henry's legs, feeling how hard he is and how immediately he grinds against Alex's body, searching for any form of relief.

“Oh, piss off,” Henry breathes and tangles his hands in Alex's curls, fisting his hand lightly and moving his hips a little faster.

(Additional Tags: Married Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Kitchen Sex, Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Laughter During Sex, Body Worship, Sort Of, Hickeys, Begging, Praise Kink, Nipple Play, surprisingly there's NO food play in this, Dom Alex, Sub Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

we thought we ruled the world

Alex stares down at his latest text from Henry. A link to an article he’s seen about ten versions of so far. He’s managed to resist clicking on any of them, but now Henry is sending it, so he supposes he should at least give it a skim.

How Prince Henry’s Relationship With FSOTUS Lost Ellen Claremont The Election

............

Or, what would have happened if Ellen lost.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, mostly happy at least)

pictures of you

Henry has seen photos of Alex before, of Alex’s easy grin and disarming smirk, wild curls awry and lean muscles on casually stretched biceps. He’s seen countless photos of him before.

But.

Alex has never sent him a photo before. Not like this.

---

Five times Alex sends Henry a selfie from bed (+ one time Henry sends him one)

the dresden dilemma

The Crown had expectations when it sent a member of the royal family abroad but after a handful of years navigating said expectations, Alex and Henry had become adept at circumventing them when possible. Like tonight: They were supposed to be in Berlin for the weekend, but after a bit of needling and a lot of promises to behave, Alex had convinced Shaan to arrange for them to spend at least one night outside of the city.

Dresden, Alex had argued, was close enough to Berlin that they weren't really disobeying the Crown and besides, what harm could a single night in Dresden do?

(Additional Tags: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Established Relationship, Alex Claremont-Diaz has Trauma, cause he's an american kid and who doesn't, or at least he thought, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Fireworks, School Shootings, implied/referenced anyway, Guns)

the clementine thing

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company.

Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him.

Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor

(This is one of my favorites, please read this ❤️)

In the Low Lamp Light, I Was Free

“You wanna go again?” Alex asks, pressing the back of his head into the pillows, offering his throat more fully to Henry’s hungry mouth, and when Henry laughs and retrieves another condom and the little bottle of lube from his toiletry bag, he adds, “I had a thought, though. I thought, maybe… you could be inside me this time.”

(Movieverse; there were two condom wrappers on the floor in Paris.)

he is exactly the poem i wanted to write

There is no Turkey in Alex's room this year, but there is a prince.

AKA, Henry spends thanksgiving with Alex after the election and reflects on all of his dreams coming true.

(Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, so fluffy it borders on worshippy, Porn with Feelings)

we might fall

A little ficlet of Alex and Henry in the hammock. Metaphors about falling.

lifeline of mine

Henry hates hospitals, has hated them since he watched his father wither away in one that smelled just like this one, that had the same unsettling chill in the air. And every time he walked into a hospital after losing Arthur, he would see his father’s ashen face, would feel the ghost of his cold skin prickling his own, would hear the slowing beep of his heart monitor. And now, it’s Henry in a hospital bed, not knowing what’s wrong with his body. And he’s scared, and he’s thinking about Arthur and…

“I saw him,” Henry whispers.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Hurt Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Worried Alex Claremont-Diaz, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug, Forehead Kisses, Fever, Angst with a Happy Ending)

please don't ever become a stranger (whose laugh i could recognize anywhere)

Alex’s love language is physical touch.

Henry knows this—has known it from the first moment he’s met Alex, all wild curls and bright eyes and a smile that could breathe life into Henry’s little, fragile hife. He’d stuck out a hand at that first meeting, dejected when Henry didn’t even take it. Found a way to poke and prod Henry every single time they’d met after, sharp jabs hitting his shoulder and rough hits shoving him around.

Now, Alex’s fingers are gentle as they lace around his. His arms hold him tight to his chest. His hair tickles the nape of Henry’s neck, and the couch is entirely too small for the two of them but Henry doesn’t have the heart to kick him out.

Or, 5 times Alex clings tight to Henry and 1 time Henry finds out why.

Bear with me

The first time it happened, Henry was not having it.

“For the last time, I’m not helping you shave your arse.”

—

In which Alex is very hairy, and Henry sort of has a thing for it. Not that he'd admit it, though.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Canon - Book, But can fit the movie verse too, tzp is a walking thirst trap, this was supposed to be crack but became quite serious real quick, Domestic Fluff, Mentions of Sex, No Smut, Body Hair Appreciation, Healthy Relationships)

i ask you how you’re doing (and i let you lie)

The first time Henry sees it happen, he knows instantly that it is not the first time it has ever happened. They’re sitting in the living room of the brownstone, the two of them surrounded by their favorite people in the world, a night of board games long abandoned in favor of mocking the eighth season of Game of Thrones.

“God, don’t you have an off switch?” June groans, laughing as she chucks a piece of popcorn in Alex’s direction while he rambles passionately about the international legal implications of the Red Wedding. Nora cackles. “Whatever you do to thank Henry for putting up with you, it’s not nearly enough. Jesus, I can’t believe he put a ring on your loud mouth.”

Or: Alex is fine. Really, he’s fine — he just wants Henry to stay, even if Alex is too much. Henry just wants his husband back.

but i'd put you first a million times over

Henry first noticed it shortly after the Waterloo incident. Apparently, it hadn’t been enough to thrust all their private thoughts and emails into the public eye; they had to be thrust into the limelight as well.

Or the 5 times Henry asked the Crown for better security, plus one time he no longer had to.

(Additional Tags: Protective Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Paparazzi, Hurt/Comfort, 5+1 Things, Hurt Alex Claremont-Diaz, Post-Canon)

in every scenario

Henry can practically hear Alex thinking. They’re curled up in bed, Alex’s head resting on his chest, and his mind is so loud. He can hear it in the rustling of the sheets, in Alex’s hand skating up his ribcage; the anxious curl of his toes against Henry’s ankles. He’s nearly vibrating with thought.

Henry’s hand tucks into the base of Alex’s spine. “Love,” he murmurs, ducking his chin to look down at his boyfriend. “What on earth are you thinking about?”

Or, Alex has something important on his mind.

Long fics:

all that glitters (is not gold)

Alex Claremont-Diaz has it all. His mom won the election, he’s got the perfect boyfriend. He gets to love Henry out loud. Everything is great. Perfect.

Except for the itch under his skin every time he goes outside, and the tightness in his chest when he goes online, and the fact that he can’t fucking sleep.

But it's fine. He's fine. Really.

—-

Or: after the emails, Alex Claremont-Diaz isn’t fine.

(The masterpiece. The firstprince sequel. The canon sequel.)

But I love him, whether or no.

Henry moves to New York City to help Pez with the opening of his new bar in the East Village. The location—fortunately for business, but unfortunately for Henry’s sanity—is directly across the street from a fire station. The sound of sirens is bad, Alex the gorgeous firefighter is worse. But when Alex helps Henry avoid a near catastrophe the night of the bar’s opening, the two form a tentative friendship that starts to develop into something more.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighter!Alex, Canon typical mental health issues for Henry, Canon typical struggles with grief for Henry, Canon typical child of divorce issues for Alex, Canon typical struggles with sexuality for Alex, Firefighter injuries, Hospitalization, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

the poem you make of me

After being discovered on Instagram as a teenager, Alex Diaz is thriving as a social media influencer and model who just landed a high profile, high fashion contract with Calvin Klein. Alex can get any girl he wants, and he’s loving it. Meanwhile, British poet Henry Fox has just arrived in L.A. to kick off a North American tour promoting his new, steamy book of gay erotic poetry, and he’s attracting a lot of attention.

Bad blood is immediately sparked between them when Henry blows Alex off at their first meeting. Several tabloid rumors and an Instagram tantrum later, Alex and Henry are reluctantly thrust together to make nice, resulting in a grudging friendship and a magnetism between them that Alex can't explain. Why is Henry's poetry making Alex feel like this? And just what is it about Henry Fox that gets to him so much?

God Save the Blessed American President Mom

["June stopped by at lunch; she showed me a delightful channel called Hallmark, which repeats the same story every hour after they swap one round of white, straight, small-town conventionally beautiful actors for another. It was entertaining.”

“June and I used to play a drinking game with those. Take a shot every time someone goes ice skating, sledding, or leaves the big city for their tiny hometown.”

“Good lord, you must’ve been sloshed in the first ten minutes.”]

***

On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life.

Alex gets shot instead.

How wonderful life is (while you're in the world)

The corner of Henry’s mouth. It’s disappeared now, covered by the oxygen mask fixed securely around his head, but if Alex concentrates hard enough, he can see it sprawled out in front of him. Every ridge, every bend and edge and turn of it.

He knows Henry’s heart. And that’ll be enough.

(or: the one where henry gets shot and alex is a goddamn mess.)

#it's been 84 years #but i did it #this is the longest post I've ever made #please don't ignore it #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince fanfic #firstprince fic #rwrb fic #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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daandyli0n · 1 year ago

Note

HOO FUCKING BOY, HERE WE GO:

so. first off, the main characters, based off of Tilin and Flippa: Bonnibel "Bonni" Martinez and Artemis "Arti" Nolan

(not the official designs for anyone, just some doodles. also, if you can't see the numbers too well, Bonni is eleven and Arti is twelve at the beginning of the story)

as you can see, right off the bat, A Lot Of Divorce.

all you need to know on both ends:

- [REDACTED] is dead. Quincy caught him abusing their Three Year Old Child and had the Quite Understandable Response of Immediate Murder. Bonni has a burn scar on their left hand from The Incident and has also repressed the memory of what happened that day. both of The Incident and of The Murder.

(also, ignore Doppelganger for now. we'll get to him in a bit :))

- Hermie and Lee did what i call The Gay Couple Equivalent Of "Let's Have A Child To Save Our Marriage!" it. Basically Backfired. Horribly. Herman's final straw was when Lee caused an accident that heavily injured and Almost Killed Artemis. the pair divorced after that, but Lee still visits Arti on occasion.

- oh yeah, fun fact: Quincy and Hermie have Feelings for each other, but they both have such complicated feelings from Previous Relationships that they just. can't bring it up to each other. so they both just Yearn And Pine™️.

- Quincy owns a casino in a nearby city, and works in the Actual Building on weekends. Bonni stays with Arti and Hermie those nights :]

- Quincy is genderqueer and gay, and also uses any pronouns

now! PLOT TIME:

- so. weird stuff starts happening in September of 20XX in this little small town called Sleepyfern. Weird Tall Teddy Bears stare ominously from the woods (listen. you know i love The Horrors of the Cucuruchos, so adding something similar to them was bound to happen), a guy goes missing, that same guy's four-year-old son Fucking Dies mysteriously during the night with Absolutely Zero Clear Cause Of Death. stuff ain't going so well, right?

- well, It Gets Even Worse! a kid Bonni and Arti were close to, Joshua Canary (i'm sure That last name doesn't have any symbolism to it whatsoever :) Definitely Not :)), gets killed on his way home from school in late September, and it was so bad that their body is described as "barely recognizable." they say it looks like he was mauled by Something, but no one is sure what exactly could've done it. Bonni walked in on the scene being discovered. She Doesn't Take It Well!

- Bonni, due to not taking it well, is told to go to appointments with the school counselor. she helps him the best she can, but even Quincy thinks that sending them to an Actual Therapist will help better.

- about a week later, Bonni is walking home from school, waiting for Arti, when they get dragged into the woods by a figure who Looks Like Quincy and then gets beaten up. Arti comes along after hearing Bonni start screaming for help and throws rocks at the figure until Bonni can get away, at which point they both sprint home, with Bonni bruised up.

the figure? That's Doppelganger. long story short, it's a shapeshifting being who copies the appearance of people in the town, typically those who are missing or dead, in order to blend in or lure people off. he usually takes on the appearance of Quincy just to fuck with this One Specific Kid (Bonni). why her specifically? good question! no one really knows!

- a few days later, Quincy goes missing for a whole day, before "miraculously" appearing again. uh yeah, that's Doppelganger again. Bonni, understandably, doesn't want to be alone in a house with something that had tried to kill them just A Few Days Prior. Arti decides to help Bonni find a way to lock his door (i just thought it'd be an interesting bit that Arti just knows how to do A Lot Of Random Useful Shit. no one really knows how, and she never explains it. yes, this list of things apparently includes Installing A Lock On Someone's Door), to help him feel safer, and offers to let Bonni stay over at her house if they need it.

- Bonni, over the next few days, comes up with an interesting idea: they both love mysteries, exploring, and horror stuff,

Why Don't THEY Try To Figure Out What The Fuck All Of This Weird Shit Is, And How To Make It Stop?

Arti is a bit reluctant, but decides to agree to go along with this. after all, everyone needs a little adventure, right?

- Bonni decides to create a little motto:

"For Dad and For Josh."

(Because Bonni DEFINITELY Doesn't Feel Guilty About What Happened To Josh, Because He Offered To Walk Home With Him And Didn't Press It When Josh Insisted He Could Walk Home Alone, And So She Feels Responsible For What Happened To Them. Definitely Not)

- so yeah! Bonni And Arti Decided To Investigate The Horrors, And Now Are Being Forced To Face And Deal With The Horrors!

that's all for now, i might write some things in a bit and tag you in them, but if you wanna ask about anything, then feel free 100%! i love this little thing that i've created and wanna talk about it!!

Doc, would you like to hear about a new oc universe i created that might've been inspired a bit by the qsmp (mostly character-wise and partially plot-wise)?

long story short: mix the vibes of Coraline, Gravity Falls, and the Qsmp, and add the themes of loss of childhood innocence due to trauma, guilt, and trauma in general, and make it a mix of the horror and mystery genres. oh yeah, also make it Very queer.

general warnings for both harm to children and child death, because. Jesus Christ.

(plot summary: Weird Stuff Happens In A Small Town And A Couple Of Queer Preteens Decide To Get Involved With Figuring Out What The Fuck Is Going On, Partially Because The Weird Shit Is Affecting Their Lives. The Horrors™️ Ensue)

Yesyesyesyes tell me your brain worms!! I love consuming my friends oc stuff it gives me enrichment ^v^

#Dandy goes 'baa!'#Sleepless (oc story)

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joshsindigostreak · 3 months ago

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Moonburn

Chapter One

Nine of Swords, Upright: sleepless nights, worry and anxiety.

Vampire Hunter!Jake x Witch!OC

Authors Note: Hey y’all!! I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter in Jake’s story! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! If you need to catch up on the Prologue, do so here.

*Set prior to the events of I See Hell in Your Eyes. This is the beginning of Jake’s story. This can be read independently from ISHIYE but there will be cross references as it’s in the same universe.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Not very many just some swearing.

Description: When a young affluent hunter finds himself taking an unexpected detour in Tucson, Arizona, he finds himself drawn to a local dive bar with a rather ecclectic clientele, situated on an equally intriguing location adjacent to a cemetery. Cemeteries are neutral ground, so even if he found a Vampire to snuff out, he couldn’t. Especially with the owner of the bar being a Witch and watching him like a hawk.

Jake’s dreams were always distinctly under two categories: either he’d find his dream self walking down an empty city street, head on a swivel for any Vampiric activity, trailing one he had found earlier that kept evading him. Or, he’d wake up in his childhood bedroom, realize that he was seven years old again, hearing footsteps in the hallway growing closer.

His mind would not let go of the night that Vampire broke in and found the twins’ room first on the upper floor. The Vampire’s appearance had morphed over the years, steadily gaining more grotesque. But the feeling of its mangled and dirty fingers tangling in his hair and violently pulling upwards, sending white hot pain into the boys’ scalp as his feet lifted off the ground, was always the same.

This night was no exception, and unfortunately for the young hunter it was the latter scenario.

A distant creak of the hardwood floors down the hallway always startles him awake. His large and curious brown eyes would always pop open at the sound, and he’d strain his ears to try to figure out who was walking towards his shared room with Josh. It couldn’t have been his little brother Sam; he was too light to make the floorboards move like that. Josh was snoring above him, oblivious to everything, so that ruled out him. Maybe his parents? But he could hear the heavy thuds of shoes as the sound got closer, and why would his parents have their shoes on in the middle of the night? The realization that it was someone else in the house besides his family made his blood run cold and had him pulling his covers up to his chin as he tried to make himself as small as possible on the bottom bunk.

A few agonizing minutes later, the footsteps were right outside his door, and his younger self was stiff as a board, bracing himself for whomever would enter. Sure enough, the doorknob would slowly twist and a stream of light from the hallway would stream in as the door opened. All he saw before he screwed his eyes shut was a large, intimidating silhouette peering into his room. Jake tried to keep his breathing even, not wanting to give it away that he was awake. The intruder made his way into their room, kicking a few toys out of the way in the process. He could feel their presence near his bed, and it took everything in him to not flinch at the putrid breath that was being exhaled into his face.

But Jake was a frightened child, and his instinct was to get to his brother as quickly as possible. When the creature whispered, “jackpot…” his eyes shot open and he opened his mouth to yell for his twin, all while trying to scramble down his bed and make it to the ladder leading up to Josh’s bunk. His tiny hand had just reached one of the bottom bars when the all too familiar sensation of fingers in his hair and being yanked backwards and upwards rattled his system. Distantly he would hear his brother startle awake and barely touching the ladder as he flew down to come to his rescue.

The creature paid Josh no mind while he lifted up the younger boy to his eye level, his mouth twisting into a sadistic smile and revealing the long jagged fangs that extended from his gums.

A Vampire had somehow broken into their extensively guarded house.

Jake kicked and squirmed midair, trying to get the Vampire to drop him, but it was no use. The creature stared into his eyes, hunger clearly on his mind. The young boy couldn’t take it anymore and as he clawed at the Vampire’s wrist he took a deep breath and released a shrill, high pitched shriek that rattled the-

The now adult Jake shot up in bed, silver knife white knuckled in his fist. Through his own personal training, he had taught himself how to sleep with his hand curled around a knife under his pillow, and not letting go of it until he was awake.

His skin was damp and clammy, feeling especially chilled from the ceiling fan spinning above. In spite of this sweat gathered on his hairline, threatening to spill down his face. His eyes darted around the room for any threats, as if he was ready to face off with the Vampire from his memory. But the hunter was alone in the tiny motel room, and when he deduced this he rolled out of bed, still holding the knife. He padded over to the sink in the miniscule kitchenette and poured a glass of water from the sink. He gulped it down but it took two more glasses to finally get some relief in his dry throat.

After setting the glass down and abandoning it next to the sink he went around the room to check his security measures. His crossbow lay still on the other side of the bed, with a wooden arrow locked and loaded, ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice. With Josh off doing whatever it was he was doing, the weapon was the closest thing he had to a partner in crime.

The solitary window was covered by curtains, and Jake carefully pulled back one of the panels to look out onto the parking lot. The sun was freshly risen, giving him solace in the fact that his ultimate threats were locked inside and away from the light. Sunrises had always been Jake’s favorite for this reason. His shoulders relaxed as he opened the curtains as far as he could, letting in as much natural light as possible. Now that he was awake and definitely not going back to sleep any time soon, he turned his attention to getting a shower and washing off nightmares as best he could.

~!~

It had been over four days now, and Jake still could not get his night at The Tipsy Tumbleweed out of his head. He went to other bars around town to kill time, but all of them were so basic to him. They were too loud, or the drinks sucked, or the TV’s weren’t on anything interesting, or the bartenders would try way too hard to flirt with him for better tips. He wanted to go back, he wanted to see her, he wanted to at least get her name.

But Jake was full of an unfamiliar feeling of intimidation he wasn’t used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked into a situation where he wasn’t the top dog, even when surrounded by Damned corpses who were decades older than him. His exposure to other supernatural creatures was limited. Growing up the focus was so heavily on Vampire’s that he rarely took the time to learn much about others. He usually just relied on Sam to info dump about whatever creature he was obsessed with that month and he’d tuck any useful information into the back of his mind and kept on moving.

Sam’s best friend happened to be a Werewolf, which was a secret that all three Kiszka boys kept to themselves out of respect for Danny, who always seemed like a good kid regardless of his DNA. The twins were just glad that their little brother had finally made a true friend, which was something they always worried about given Sam’s nerdy and introverted nature. The change in Sam after that first summer with Danny was like night and day, and his confidence and ego hadn’t stopped growing since. It was a gift and a curse, Josh would say in exasperation.

Witches however? Jake hadn’t truly met one in person before. He knew of them, and had gotten a few lectures on how to watch out for them. His mother in particular emphasized that they were simply untrustworthy and never expounded beyond that. Once again his brother would fill in the blanks sometimes. He mentioned a few who had gone to his university but he wasn’t particularly close to them. That hadn’t stopped Josh from making cracks about Sam going to Hogwarts whenever he got the chance, or asking if he had any classes with Hermione. This usually resulted in the nearest object thrown in the oldest sibling's direction.

The most Jake knew about them was that they were definitely not human, and most had innate abilities that were passed down via genetics. Covens were a thing but not a requirement, and most were very secretive as to what they got up to. One thing Jake would never openly admit is when he was out of his depth on something, but he couldn’t just accept defeat like this and twiddle his thumbs until he could get out of town.

Which was why he was sitting in the parking lot of The Tipsy Tumbleweed, staring at the entrance from the drivers side of his shitty rental. He mulled over the vague threat she had given him days prior. She didn’t say he couldn’t come back…just that he couldn’t come back and pull any shit. He could do that. He could just walk in, sit down and be good. He could potentially apologize.

The hunter repeated these affirmations to himself as he walked inside, immediately greeted by the familiar music, the glow of the various neon signs, and the scowl of the owner of the bar he was standing in.

She was behind the bar, writing something in a notebook of hers on the bar top when those big hazel eyes looked up and locked onto him. It took a conscious effort on Jake’s part to not trip over his own feet under her gaze.

He settled on the bar stool directly in front of her without a word, and the two stared at each other wondering who would flinch first. Her hazel irises were all he could focus on, and he took the opportunity to map out the different ways the green blended into light brown.

“Are you going to behave tonight?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

Her right eyebrow slowly raised, “not in my bar there isn’t.”

The hunter nodded at the Witch, falling back into silence.

She reached to her left and brought a low ball glass in front of her on the bar and her other hand grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured about two fingers worth into the glass. It was the same order from that first night, this time untampered with.

“We’re going to try this again, but if you even look at Lou for too long I’ll physically toss you out myself.”

The hunter's eyes swiveled slightly to the right, his peripheral catching sight of the Vampire who was focused on the TV. Jake quickly snapped his eyes back to the bar owner’s,

“Got it,” he replied in an obedient tone that he rarely spoke in.

She nodded and replied, “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some regulars to greet.”

The Witch turned on her heel and walked out from around the bar, passing behind Jake and making her way to one of the two-top tables towards the front of the bar. As she passed, a sweet yet earthy scent wafted around him. Was that her perfume? He pondered. Or was that just her?

He racked his brain as he tore his eyes away from the swing of her hips and turned back to his glass. Whiskey was always his go-to at bars, because no one could truly fuck it up, but in truth, he was a Pinot Noir guy. It started when he was a teenager and the only alcohol he could get his hands on was the wine in the basement. His parents collected bottles from their travels and had so many at this point that they never actually drank that Jake sneaking a bottle or two every so often went unnoticed. He quickly figured out what he liked so by the time he was actually of age it became his private staple.

Jake continued to fire off questions in his head as he outwardly minded his own business.

He was brought back to reality when a familiar young voice answered, “her name is Cecilia, by the way.”

Jake looked up and saw the young bartender named Stacey standing in front of him.

“How did you-”

Her eyes went wide once again, just like that first night, “oh shit I’m so sorry! Sometimes it's hard to differentiate people’s inner voices from their outer voices and it sounds like someone asked me something out loud and-”

Jake raised his hands slightly off the bar, palms facing outwards to show he wasn’t mad, “hey, you didn’t do anything wrong it’s ok.”

Her face relaxed slightly, but she was still clearly embarrassed, “Cecilia’s been helping me get better at it but I still fuck up some times.”

Jake looked at her with warm eyes, “I’m assuming that you heard me thinking about him,” he cocked his head in Lou’s direction, “and went off and told her the other night?”

She looked down at the bar top and fiddled with her fingers, “yeah…we’ve just never had any trouble in here before and Lou is just really special to us and I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

Stacey kept her voice low, as to not let Lou hear her saying that he was special to her. However, it didn’t work and the Vampire kept facing the TV and he suppressed a small smile while his face turned pink.

“Well you don’t have to worry about me, I'm not going to mess with him.”

“I guess that truth serum worked,” she looked up, trying not to smile.

Now it was Jake’s turn to look embarrassed, “yeah…yeah it did.”

“Well she’s still letting you sit here so she can’t be too mad still.”

“I’m on thin ice but I promise I’m just here cause I like the place, that's all.”

Stacey looked down and saw that Jake’s glass was empty, “do you want another drink?”

Jake looked down at the glass, but decided to do something different tonight, “do you have a good Pinot here?”

She looked at him blankly, “wine?”

“Yes…”

“Umm…I think we have a few bottles in the back.” She turned and disappeared behind the Employee door.

Jake sat there softly tapping his thumbs on the edge of the bar, inwardly hating that he was making a fuss over something as arbitrary as a drink. It was another reason why he always fell back on his “usual.” He hated being “that guy” in situations.

After a few minutes the young bartender busted through the Employee door and nearly jogged over to Jake’s spot at the bar. It was clear she wasn’t used to using a corkscrew, but after cussing a little under her breath the cork popped from the bottle. She threw Jake a triumphant smile as she poured him a glass.

“Thank you, Stacey,” he said warmly.

“Any time,” she replied before leaving the bar area to ask if anyone else needed refills or new drinks around the bar.

He studied the glass closely, grasping it by the stem and tilting it to the side and then back again to see what kind of legs it had before bringing it to his nose to see what flavors he could pick up. The alcohol itself was pretty strong, but he had had worse. It was medium bodied, with tannins that weren’t too overpowering due to the bright acidity from the-

“Are you detecting the grapes?”

A silky voice startled him and his eyes left the glass to look in front of him. It was Cecilia. His face reddened slightly, again, but her face broke into a smile as she wrote some figures down in the notebook she had placed on the bar.

“Oh umm-”

“Relax, I’m just fucking with you,” her smile stayed fixed on her face and Jake felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even realized how tense they had been. “You’re the first customer to order any of the wine we have, by the way.”

“I imagine people aren’t really thirsty for wine right off the highway,” the hunter said as he took his first sip. Oh, that’s not too bad, he thought, surprised at the texture and flavor of the wine.

The Witch nodded, “yeah people are more interested in their usual beers or liquor. You know the whole, ‘candy is dandy but liquor is quicker’ mentality.”

The corners of Jake’s mouth almost turned into a smile, “my brother likes to say that a lot.”

Cecilia’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, “you have a brother?”

Jake nodded, “three, actually. Two are biologically siblings and the other one we all kind of adopted over the years. He’s a good kid.”

She smiled, “oh that’s nice. Are they all hunters too?”

“Only one of them is; Josh.”

“Is he older or-?”

Jake grimaced slightly, “well…older…by five minutes. The other two are younger than me.”

Her lips formed an O, “so you’re a middle child? I can see that with you.”

Had it been anyone else, Jake would’ve gotten offended by that, but he let it slide for Cecilia.

“Only technically.”

“I can’t relate, I just have a little sister, Astrid. Or Ass-strid as I called her growing up.”

At this point they were both smiling softly at each other.

“What’s she like?” Jake asked before taking another sip of wine.

The Witch started to roll her eyes but stopped, “oh she’s the picture perfect Witch my mother always wanted, except that neither one of us inherited Moms psychic abilities. Astrid can enter people’s dreams, which was so fun growing up.” This time Cecilia let herself complete the eyeroll.

Jake’s eyes softened as he looked at her, the question clear in his expression.

“As for me, I do this…,” her eyes swiveled down towards Lou, who was once again minding his own business. His usual glass sat idly as he paid attention to the commercial on the TV, and immediately slid down the bar towards the Witch like a hockey puck, directly into her curled hand.

Lou was unimpressed and let out a short, “hey,” towards her and she sent the glass back, not spilling a drop.

Jake had never seen a telekinetic in person before, and sat there dumbfounded.

“Wow…” was all he could say.

She shrugged, “I can also read Tarot pretty well.”

Something inside the hunter was very interested in it all. Witches were something that weren’t brought up a lot, and when they were it was never in a positive light. He was mainly taught to focus on the Undead more than any other creature.

“...and your mom?”

Cecilia leaned in towards the hunter, closer than she had been before and whispered, “my mom talks to dead people.”

Jake blinked at her.

“She heads a Necromancy coven in Northern California where I grew up,” the Witch leaned back towards her side of the bar, “it's not as exciting as you think.”

He wanted to ask more questions, but the way Cecilia’s expression soured at the mention of her mother gave him enough of a hint to drop that part of the subject.

“How did you end up in Arizona?”

This time, her eyes softened wistfully, “my dad was from here.”

The word ‘was’ stuck out to him.

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded, “yeah.”

The two stared at each other, allowing the silence to wash over them. Jake swallowed the last of his wine, and before he could open his mouth another question was thrown his way.

“I just realized I am a terrible bar owner and have been talking to you this whole time without getting your actual name?”

Jake smirked, his eyes staring into hers, and slowly extended his hand over the bar, “Jake Kiszka, hunter of the Undead and at your service.”

The Witch held out her hand and wrapped it around his to shake. The warmth of his skin rippled up her own arm, over her shoulder and down her back, settling at the base of her spine

“I hope you don’t tell your baristas that,” she retorted with a crinkle in her nose, “Cecilia Addington, bar owner with First Born Daughter problems.”

Jake never wanted to let go of her hand. The firm grip of her fingers and the softness of her skin had his head spinning.

He wanted to know if all of her skin was just as soft.

Reluctantly, they both dropped their hands at the same time each taking a second to flex their hands under the bar out of each other's sight.

Jake was the one to speak first, “so how does-“

“No more questions until you buy another drink, Jake.”

The butterflies from sixth grade swarmed in his gut at the sound of her saying his name.

She turned her head and gave Stacey a Look and a nod towards the hunter, before giving Jake one last smile before slinking around the bar to greet a few patrons that had just walked through the door. Jake watched her the whole time, listening to the volume of her voice and appreciating the fact that she was a hugger just like he was. Fuck.

It was going to be a long night.

To be continued….

Tag List: @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema, @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @childinthegardenn , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @musicislove3389 , @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula

#jake kiszka #greta van fleet #Jake gvf #jake kiszka x oc #vampire hunter fic #witch!oc #hurt/comfort #he falls first #star crossed lovers but they don’t know it #healing journey #past trauma mention

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daandyli0n · 1 year ago

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Sleepless (Prologue)

(a very short thing, but it's the prologue to this whole story. enjoy, y'all :] @docterzerocare if you wanna see this thing)

(warnings: child death, referenced harm to children, graphic description of a corpse)

There was a dead kid found in the woods, and he hadn’t been dead for more than ten minutes.

And yet no one had heard him scream.

It was September 22, 20XX, at 3:20 PM. School had been out for twenty minutes at Sleepyfern Middle School, and around fifteen minutes ago, a young boy had left the school to walk home alone. At least five minutes after that something had attacked them. And around ten minutes later, someone finally found him.

By that point, it was too late to do anything to help him.

Whatever had attacked them, it had mauled him. His body was covered in scratches and bites, his eyes had practically been clawed out, and there was blood absolutely everywhere.

They were barely recognizable.

A small crowd gathered around the spot, and the area had become a crime scene. People had gathered, horrified by the sight before them. What sort of creature would do this, completely unprompted? Why so violent?

Why hadn’t any of them heard him scream?

Among the crowd stood another child, stood frozen in shock, disbelief, and grief. A close friend, who had, just a short while earlier, laughed with them and said goodbye. A child looks at the blood-soaked white cloth, thinly covering her friend’s dead body.

And that child’s name was…

#Sleepless (oc story)#Dandy's Writing #oc: josh canary #< that's the Very Dead Kid #now who's being talked about at the end? well...we'll just have to wait and see won't we?#tw child death #tw child harm

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icarusflewsworld · 3 days ago

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Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 7 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Please feel free to comment and telling me what you think of the story, it would make me very happy. In any case, thank you for reading ❤️❤️

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapter 7

The time had come. They had flown at a crazy speed after crossing the wall but had still not been fast enough. When they had decided that they could finally return to the Archerons' domain to find out if Feyre's sisters had received answers from the queens, none of the three Illyrians, despite the amount of work they had to do, had wanted to miss this opportunity to see their possible soulmate again.

They hadn't even had time to go see the Suriel and in fact, none of them really wanted to. They had wanted to do it but every time one of the three suggested going, a ball of anxiety formed in their stomachs. They were far too afraid of what the Suriel could say because in both cases, it would change their lives forever.

They were afraid that the Suriel would tell them that this link with Luxiana was a lie, that this link with this sunny, cute and pleasant young woman was not true, and then, they would never recover. They had felt so many emotions, fear but especially happiness when meeting her that telling them that this link was false would make them feel like they were losing their true soul mate even if she was not.

But deep down, that wasn't what the three Illyrians feared the most. No. What they were afraid of, what kept them awake at night, wasn't that this bond forming between the three of them and their soulmate was false, but that it was true. Because that meant a whole world of change.

It meant that their sibling relationship with their brothers would change forever, that they would be connected in a much greater and deeper way than before.

It meant they would have to share the woman of their lives with two other men and they wouldn't be able to have her all to themselves.

It meant putting their soulmate in danger because of who they were. It meant days of anguish and fear trying to protect a fragile, seemingly suicidal human who was absolutely not going to help them in the process.

But most of all, it meant that their time with her was limited. She was human and so, she would grow old. She would grow old without them. And she would eventually die without them. Of course, they would never get over it. They didn't know her but it was already a certainty for them, they would follow her anywhere even in death. That said, knowing that their days with her would be so short killed them with sadness. When they thought about it, their shoulders hunched, their eyes faded, their stomachs exploded and their hearts tightened. They would not have an eternity with their soulmate but a few precious days numbered. And that terrified them.

But it also meant one thing, that they had already wasted too much time away from her. Their bodies and minds couldn't stay away from her for too long without driving them completely crazy anyway. Their hearts, their stomachs, their skins and every single muscle they had were aching with every second they were away from her and their minds were slowly killing them by making them imagine the worst. By making them visualize Luxiana's body in another man's arms, laughing with another, or by making them imagine her cute little face looking lovingly at someone who wasn't them. Sometimes, when they were really not well, when they were worried, they remembered that their soulmate could get sick and even die because of a simple stupid thing. They imagined her injured or sometimes even lifeless and it destroyed them. It would destroy them.

They were already worried sick even though they didn't even know her. It was all that anxiety and sleepless nights that had made Rhysand decide. He had waited as long as he could, but those few weeks away from her had been hell. He knew he should have waited a little longer before returning to the Archerons, and that he had to give the queens a little more time to answer him, but he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to see her. He needed to make sure she was okay. He needed to make sure she could still be his. Theirs.

He hadn't even asked his two brothers if they wanted to come, knowing full well that these last few days had been as hellish for them as they had been for him. He had simply gotten up this morning and given in to his desire to want to find her. "It's time," he had just said to his brothers when he arrived in the dining room this morning and they had followed him hastily without even asking what he was talking about, knowing full well that it was about their soulmate. It was always about their mate anyway.

They hadn't even had lunch. Actually, they hadn't eaten much these last few days. Even Cassian. His love for food had completely disappeared, which worried Mor and even Amren a lot. In fact, the way the three brothers had been behaving since they had met that girl worried Mor and Amren. They didn't know what they could do to help but Azriel was on edge all the time yelling at the first thing that pissed him off, Cassian had become as silent as Azriel before and Rhysand had lost his taste for everything. In fact, the only time they had seen excitement and joy in their eyes since they had returned from the Archerons, had been when they talked about that girl and this morning.

The three Illyrians were breathing again. They were going to see her and that was all that mattered. Cassian was flying around, smiling with joy and excitement at the thought of seeing her again. Rhysand was flapping his wings with all his might to get to her as quickly as possible. Azriel was fighting against his anxiety at the thought of finding her injured or with someone else.

They weren't even sure if she would be in the Archerons' house today but they knew that either way, they would look everywhere for her and not leave until they saw her or made sure she was okay.

As they landed, invisible, in front of the door of the mansion, the excitement and reluctance bubbling in their bodies nearly made them jump on the spot. Cassian knocked on the door, much louder than necessary.

After a few moments, an old woman, a servant, comes to open the door for them. Seeing no one at the door, the three Faes being invisible, she frowned as she looked a little more closely at the door frame. But Rhys allowed himself to get into the old woman's head to force her to go and warn one of the Archerons of their presence. Which she did, her gaze devoid of life.

The maid left, even leaving the door open, having only one goal: to warn one of the Archerons of the presence of someone important at the door. Azriel closed the door, not wanting to let a cold that could make his soulmate sick enter the house.

Unfortunately, the old woman returned with the coldest of the Archerons, Nesta.

Nesta descended the stairs with a heavy step, almost irritated, going with an anger visible on her face towards the front door. She did not want to see the Faes again and in addition to not having announced themselves, they had dared to enter the head of their servant to force her to do something. Nesta was shaking with anger and if it had not been those powerful Faes on her doorstep, she would have left them outside. Especially since they had announced during their first visit that they would return next week, why were they already there? She opened the door a little wider than necessary, silently inviting invisible Faes to enter by pointing to the hall with her hand and moving to the side.

Seeing the sister who had opened the door for them, Cassian grimaced, Azriel sighed and Rhysand closed his eyes tightly. They would have preferred to come across someone else. A pretty blonde, with almost white hair for example.

The three faes rushed into the house in a hurry. Fortunately, because Nesta slammed the door a little too quickly, probably hoping that one of the Faes would take it in their face. A little disappointed that this was not the case, Nesta grimaced with disdain as the sound of the door closing violently still echoed in the hall. She rushed with heavy steps up the stairs while the Illyrians followed her reluctantly. She climbed up to the first floor where she opened the door to one of the rooms.

Nesta half-stepped into the room, pressing herself against the door to let the faes enter. The Illyrians looked around the vast chamber from floor to ceiling, noting the gold silk sheets on the enormous bed and the blue velvet curtains on the large bay windows.

“I am not dealing with that,” Nesta spat coldly as she stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

The Illyrians frowned as she left, thinking they would be left alone in a room, but suddenly a white-haired head came out from behind a three-drawer dresser at the other end of the room and slightly away from the wall.

Luxiana's head raised, her eyebrows furrowed, a confused and surprised look fixed on the door, on Nesta who had just left.

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel's eyes widened as they noticed the blonde in the room. A ball of anxiety and a weight of disappointment left them, allowing them to take a deep breath. Then their chests swelled with joy, excitement, and apprehension. She was there.

She still had a completely undone bun that made the Illyrians smirk. She looked careless and they loved it, especially since she looked so cute with all her strands of hair hanging around her face.

Luxiana straightened up fully from behind the dresser where she had been, a butter knife in her hand, making every muscle in the Illyrian tense. What was she doing there with a butter knife? She could hurt herself.

“Huh?” she said simply, still staring at the door, not seeing the faes who were still invisible. “Nesta?” she called out, almost running towards the door. “What are you talking about?”

A wave of fear electrified the Illyrians as they saw her running with a knife in her hands. What if she fell and stabbed herself? When she put her hand on the doorknob to open it and catch Nesta, Rhysand put his hand on the blonde's, stopping her and Azriel almost threw himself on her to snatch the knife from her hands.

Luxiana gasped in surprise as she felt an invisible person's fingers on her hand while another stole her knife. She turned and put her back to the door, her brow furrowed, her muscles tensed ready to defend herself but her hand was still in Rhysand's.

The three Fae made themselves visible and Cassian raised his hands in the air in front of him in a sign of appeasement. They could not, however, help but examine her greedily, feeling relieved, almost believing that she was a dream. She was there, in front of them and she was fine. She was fine.

“Forgive us, we didn't mean to scare you,” Rhysand whispered, smiling kindly at her, looking at her with concern.

When she recognized the faes, Luxiana relaxed, blowing out all the air she had been holding. And to think that she had nearly slit their throats, to such sexy creatures, what a sacrilege it would have been. She placed her free hand on her heart, a relieved expression on her face. “Are you crazy? I could have hurt you!”

The Illyrians looked at each other in surprise before bursting into laughter as they looked tenderly at the young woman. Cassian's hands pressed against his stomach and Rhysand had to reluctantly release his soulmate's hand on the doorknob.

Luxiana opened her mouth in shock, before gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes, glaring at them, realizing they were openly mocking her. She crossed her arms. If only they knew she could knock them down whenever she wanted, and she didn't know what was stopping her from doing so when she had made others eat the ground for less than that.

“Forgive us,” Rhysand repeated, seeing the blonde's annoyance and wiping a tear of hilarity from the corner of his eyes to stop laughing softly at the same time as his brothers.

The blonde huffed as she relaxed. They were lucky they were so hot and that one of them had saved Feyre. “So you’re what Nesta was referring to, I guess.”

Cassian grimaced as he suddenly stopped laughing, “I think she doesn’t like us, actually.”

Luxiana laughed softly as she turned her head to the side “Don’t take it personally, she doesn’t like many people.”

But when she turned her head to the side, the Illyrians could notice a huge bruise on the corner of her jaw, the skin of which was completely damaged and still had dried blood on it. Someone had hit her. They froze from head to toe, their eyes widening and their smiles faded away.

Rhysand's heart tightened in his chest. Cassian tensed every muscle in pain. A wave of anger washed over Azriel, paralyzing him entirely.

Sensing the change in the atmosphere, the blonde looked at them and lost her smile when she saw their serious, angry and surprised expressions. They could almost seem intimidating like that.

Cassian blinked and went to ask her what had happened to her, but Azriel reacted without being able to stop himself. He grabbed the blonde's chin with his thumb and index finger, tilting her face to the side so he could observe the purple, bloody angle of her jaw. The sight made his anger raise. His breathing rushed. He couldn't breathe. They couldn't breathe. If anyone had hurt her, they swore they would set the world on fire.

“Who did this to you?” scream the Illyrian with the red siphons with a mixture of surprise and anger in his voice.

The blonde pulled away from Azriel's hold - who groaned as he felt the blonde's skin leave his - then she stepped back in shock, sticking herself completely to the door behind her. She frowned a little more as she looked at them one by one with incomprehension. What were they playing at? In which way could it possibly matter to them? That said, it was cute.

“Did someone hurt you?” Rhysand asked, taking a step forward, his body almost pressed against Luxiana’s.

“Someone hit you,” Azriel added in a cold voice, detailing her with anger so strong it rang in his ears.

Luxiana's eyes widened in realization. "Ah, that," she exclaimed, pointing at the angle of her jaw. She fake-laughed, running one of her hands over the back of her head, embarrassed. She couldn't help but look away, blushing in shame. "Uh, yeah, I fought," she tried to find an excuse.

“You fought?” Cassian repeated, his eyes widening in surprise. This little woman fought?

“Uh yeah, yeah. Ha ha.” she looked away again, searching in the four corners of the room for a solution. “That was quite a fight, the guy i fought never got up.” She adorably threw her fists in front of her as if she were hitting someone.

Azriel frowned.

Cassian grabbed her fists, forcing her to stand still and eyeing her seriously. “Easy, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“And you’re lying to us,” Azriel added with a little uncertainty, looking her up and down with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t sure, but she seemed embarrassed to talk about something. She seemed to be making something up.

Luxiana twitched, frowning for a microsecond. “What?” She giggled at Azriel’s accusations, blushing a little more. “No, not at all… I…” She stopped under the accusing and scrutinizing gaze of the three faes in front of her. Ugh, she really was a bad liar. That was her only flaw. She sighed in resignation. “Yes, yes, I’m lying… I fell.”

“You fell?” Rhysand repeated, almost shouting in surprise. “What do you mean you fell ?”

“Yeah, miserably.” Luxiana grimaced, her face now completely red. She bit her lip. Damn, those Faes weren’t going to be intimidated by her after that, if they ever could have been. “I just splayed out like a pancake on the floor.” She pursed her lips together, making them almost disappear into her cheeks, grimacing embarrassedly.

The Illyrians looked at her without being able to do anything else. She fell? She fell? Their soulmate fell ? And she told them this while making the cutest face possible.

Rhysand stared at Luxiana with narrowed eyes. Was she that clumsy? Was it possible? He took a step back. Had fate really given him such a clumsy soulmate when his own life was filled with danger? His heart felt like it was trembling with fear and apprehension in his chest.

Cassian smiled as he detailed the blonde's expression. She was cute. He relaxed his muscles slowly, one by one. He released his fists which she let fall limply to her sides. He crossed his arms as he stared at her with a mocking look that Luxiana intercepted by shooting him with her pupils, accentuating the Illyrian's hilarity.

Azriel took a step back, huffing as he did and pinching the bridge of his nose wearily. His soulmate fell. Was he really going to have to bubble wrap her and lock her in his room to make sure she didn’t hurt herself? Damn, she could have broken her neck. He clenched his fists. He really didn’t like this ball of anxiety in his stomach. He was already worrying too much about her.

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking.” Luxiana chuckled. “And the worst part is that it happens to me a lot… Like… A lot…” She crossed her arms, suddenly staring into a blank space with sadness. She wanted to take a step back, but she was already backed up against the door. She grabbed the bracelet on her wrist. A simple silver chain with blue gemstones on it. She stroked it with her fingertips. “I… I kind of lost my balance when I was little.” An infinite sadness crossed her face for a second. A sadness of such power and depth that it disarmed Rhysand, who had been the only one to see it.

Luxiana shook her head, her usual haughty demeanor returning. Rhys narrowed his eyes, realizing it was one of her defense mechanisms. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. What had she been through to act like this?

“But I still can kill you with this butter knife,” Luxiana said as if nothing had happened, pointing at the knife still in one of Azriel’s hands. “So do not mock me.”

She took a step forward and with a quick movement tried to take the knife back but, although Azriel was surprised to see her move so quickly, he had the reflex to avoid her, withdrawing his arm and raising the knife in the air.

Luxiana started jumping to try to get it back but she was too small. “Give it back to me” she shouted out of breath from her jumping.

“No,” Azriel replied coldly without meaning to. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on his tone, obsessed by the vision of the blonde jumping near him and disturbed by her proximity, making his heart explode in his chest. Luxiana’s scent climbed up to Azriel’s nostrils. Vanilla. She smelled like vanilla. Azriel had to grit his teeth. He loved it.

Cassian laughed, taking a few steps back to rest his butt on the foot of the bed, admiring the scene mockingly but the truth was his heart filled with joy.

Rhysand in turn detailed the scene with a smile but a bitter aftertaste remained on his palate. He hoped with all his guts that he was wrong and that the sadness he had seen in his soulmate was just him imagining things.

“Why did you steal it from me in the first place?” she screamed, jumping around Azriel trying to grab the knife still in his raised hand as high as she could. “Give it back, damn it!”

Rhysand huffed with a smile, he placed his hands on the young woman's shoulders, immobilizing her. She gave him a questioning look from her small heigh and Rhysand thought he would melt inside. His soulmate.

Cassian laughed heartily. She was so cute and she fit in so well with him and his brothers. “Why were you walking around with a knife anyway? And what were you doing behind that dresser?”

“That's…” she huffed, scowling and crossing her arms. “You're always asking questions. It's none of your business.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow at her, urging her with a stern look to tell him what she was doing. It concerned him, after all.

Rhysand narrowed his eyes, leaning slightly towards her, trying to see through her, even trying to catch a thought of hers that would be the answer to his questions but her mind still remained closed.

Cassian looked at her intently, tilting his head, a smirk on his lips.

A silence settled where the young woman's gaze oscillated between the three Illyrians who stared at her with a piercing gaze. Luxiana did everything not to feel intimidated, or at least not to show it because inside she was completely red under these intense looks. She took a step back, lowering her eyes for a second and clearing her throat to give herself composure. How did these three faes manage to disconcert her every time? She sighed in resignation. "Elain lost the key to her dresser so I was trying to unscrew the back to get the inside."

The three Illyrians smiled satisfied to see the effect they had on their soulmate and that they had managed to make her give in.

“You wanted to unscrew with a butter knife?” Cassian laughed at the top of his lungs.

She glared at him, biting her tongue. He was annoying and his superior air was getting on her nerves. He honestly had no idea what she could do with that butter knife and she was dying to show him but he was way too sexy to ruin his pretty face with scars.

She groaned and then rolled her eyes. “But you’re surely not here for that,” trying to change the subject of conversation and trying to regain control of her emotions.

Cassian could see how much he was getting on the little blonde's nerves and boy did he love it. She was so cute when she was angry.

Azriel put the butter knife in one of his pockets under Luxiana's dark gaze that was glaring at him. There was no way he was going to give her back her knife when she could hurt or even kill herself with it. He crossed his arms but his muscles were still tense, ready to intervene to prevent her from getting the knife back if she wanted to. She actually had no interest in even thinking about it. It would drive Azriel crazy. He would have to teach her to obey.

Rhysand regained a minimum of seriousness, still looking at the blonde with tenderness, not even able to think properly anymore. Why did they come here? They were here to see her, right? “The queens,” he reminded himself. “We came to know if you received a response from them.”

Luxiana tilted her head with a frown, eyeing them suspiciously one by one. Why were they already here? “I thought Feyre had told me this visit would take place next week. Was I mistaken? Was there a problem that would require moving this appointment forward?”

Rhysand holds back a grimace. He had to find an excuse, and fast. “No. That was what we agreed to, indeed.”

Luxiana looked at the high Lord waiting for an explanation that didn't come. "Then why did you come today?" she insisted.

Cassian smiled “because we were a little too eager to see you again.” Luxiana narrowed her eyes at him, electrifying him once again. It did that to him every time she laid eyes on him, damn it.

Luxiana knew that these words were not true and that it was only to hide the reason for their visit today but she couldn't help. She had to hold back a smile of pleasure. She would have loved for Cassian's words to be sincere. She huffed and rolled her eyes, giving up on the idea of getting the answer she wanted. They were apparently not ready to tell her why they had moved up the date of their meeting. She would have to investigate and find out why herself.

She turned her eyes back to Rhysand, ignoring Cassian and his words or Azriel’s intense gaze. “To answer your question, yes, we did receive a response. Yesterday, in fact.”

Luxiana grabbed her pale blue petticoat to lift it up. She first revealed her ankle, then her calf and her thigh where a white lace garter holding a folded sheet of paper was located.

Rhysand froze, Azriel's gaze flared, and Cassian had to sit up straight. What was she doing? Her legs were thin and her skin felt so soft. Their hearts began to pound wildly in their chests.

Luxiana grabbed the piece of paper from under the garter to pull it out. She handed it to Rhysand as she released her skirts which fell back down to her legs much to the dismay of the three Illyrians. “This is the letter we received.” She kept it on her to make sure no one got to discover it.

Rhysand blinked a few times to come back to reality and grabbed the piece of paper she handed him.

“They agreed to meet you,” Luxiana added. “They gave a date.”

Rhysand unfolded the letter and began to read it, once done he smiled as he gave a hopeful look to Cassian and Azriel who returned it to him.

Luxiana intercepted this look and expressions with great curiosity. “Can I ask you a question?” she asked Rhysand.

“Whatever you want,” he replied, looking back at her.

“Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help humans? I mean, you clearly have nothing to gain from this.” Luxiana looked at him, hoping to understand something in his expression. No matter how hard she torments her brain, she didn’t understand why he was doing this. He had nothing to win from this. She had thought about the fact that maybe he was trying to betray them and that he was on the side of the King of Hybern, but none of her sources of information, that she had devoted the last few days, had found any connection between him and Hybern. And then, he had saved Feyre, she simply refused to believe that they were that bad.

Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand smiled as they looked at her. She was so beautiful and she seemed so intelligent.

“My mother dreamed of seeing humans and Faes living in perfect coexistence together. She considered all living beings equally. I wish I could make her dream come true.” Rhysand said, his voice heavy with meaning and feeling.

Luxiana heard his sincerity and understood the sadness in his eyes. He had lost his mother. “Then why not let Hybern destroy the wall, we will all be forced to live together.”

“Not like this. Cohabitation must be wanted by both sides and Hybern doesn’t just want to destroy the wall, he wants to enslave your species. I won’t let him.” Rhysand lifted his hand, gently placing it on Luxiana’s soft, plump cheek, caressing it with his fingertips. His gaze went blank. “I couldn’t let him hurt humans, not when you’re one of them.”

Luxiana frowned for a second, surprised by his words. He seemed absent and had given the impression of thinking out loud which added a bit of sincerity to his words. But she didn't really understand the meaning of his sentence. Why would he do that for her? She glanced at Cassian and Azriel to see their expressions and try to get some kind of answer but they were both looking at her intensely with a serious face. She frowned even more and then gave Rhysand a suspicious sideways glance. She leaned towards him with a mischievous look, causing Rhysand’s arm to fall limply to his side. “Is this some way of flirting with me, my lord?”

Rhysand came back to himself, smiling. He looked down on her but not in a haughty way, in a tender way. “Maybe so, does it work?”

Luxiana smiled, holding back a laugh. “Maybe.” She remained mysterious despite herself because, holy shit, it worked.

Rhysand smirked and took a deep breath to speak but was interrupted by the door opening abruptly. He took a step back to avoid getting hit in his head and grabbed Luxiana by the arm to shift her to the side. Azriel reacted just as quickly by grabbing the blonde by the forearm to pull her towards him, but due to lack of balance, Luxiana stumbled and crashed into the chest of the Illyrian with the blue siphons. He wrapped his arms around her to catch her and prevent her from falling. A wave of adrenaline and worry surged through Cassian's body who straightened up with wide eyes, hands raised, ready to catch Luxiana if she fell.

Nesta remained in the entrance of the room, positioning herself under the door frame. She detailed the scene before her, observing Rhysand holding Luxiana's arm, Cassian a few centimeters away standing with his hands outstretched towards her and Luxiana in Azriel's arms. She grimaced with pronounced disgust.

Cassian and Rhysand breathed a sigh of relief when they saw that Luxiana hadn't hurt herself, then glared at Nesta. Azriel didn't even see the oldest of the Archeron sisters, too disturbed by the waves of warm feelings that stirred in his body because of the blonde's face buried in his pectorals and her body so thin and fragile glued to him. He had never felt such a feeling of comfort, warmth and tenderness. Such a feeling that made his heart melt in his chest.

Luxiana leaned her palms on the Illyrian's chest to straighten up but Azriel could only tighten his grip around her, preventing her from moving away. Luxiana threw him a questioning look from below although her cheeks were completely red as she was embarrassed by the situation. It was the shame of her life. She had been so absorbed by Rhysand's violet eyes that she had not reacted when Nesta had opened the door. She had had to be saved by Rhysand and Azriel and she had almost fallen again.

“I can’t keep the servants from entering the corridor and passing by the door much longer. They’ll hear your voices eventually,” Nesta said coldly, still eyeing them with a grimace. She noticed the queens’ letter in Rhysand’s hands. “You got what you came for. Go away.”

Cassian's arms fell limply to his sides and his nostril flared in anger. He hated this sister, she had nothing to do with his soulmate.

Azriel finally noticed Nesta, raising a dark look towards her. How dare she speak to them like that and above all, how dare she look at his mate with so much disdain? If Luxiana had not been in his arms making him the happiest fae in the world, he would have wanted to tear out the tongue of this viper.

Rhysand fought back a grimace. Nesta’s tone was clear, they had to leave. They couldn’t stay with their soulmate any longer. He could get inside the eldest sister’s head and force her to leave them alone, but as much as a part of him wanted to, wanting more than anything to stay with his soulmate, his good conscience screamed at him that it was wrong and that Luxiana would surely hold it against him. And he couldn’t jeopardize a potential meeting with the queens in a perfect place like this anyway. He nodded. “We’ll leave.”

Azriel and Cassian looked at Rhys in surprise before understanding and glaring at Nesta. Luxiana detailed the silent interaction between the three Illyrians, trying to understand those reactions. She put her hands on Azriel's chest again, propelling herself further away from him with a little more force than before.

Azriel looked down at her, growling as he felt her try to pull away from him but eventually reluctantly let go of her, knowing they had to go.

Luxiana was able to take a few steps away, lowering her head, dead with shame and completely red.

Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel felt like every muscle in their bodies was vibrating and their chests were swelling at the sight of how cute their soulmate was. She was adorable like that.

Cassian raised his hand to the blonde's face with the intention of raising it and admiring her blushes with a proud smile, but Rhysand, not wanting to let anything show in front of Nesta, grabbed his brother's wrist and lowered it.

“We're leaving,” said the high lord, taking a step toward the door.

Nesta pressed her back against the door to let them pass. “You know where the exit is.”

Rhysand nodded and then took another step towards the door, stopping beside Luxiana. He leaned towards her, shivering at her vanilla scent. He placed his lips gently and quickly on her cheek, giving her a little kiss. “Be careful, please.”

Luxiana shivered at the contrast of the heat that exploded in her lower abdomen at the high lord's breath on her ear. She raised her now even redder face towards him at his words.

Rhysand straightened up, a smirk on his lips, proud of the reaction he had provoked on his soulmate. He took a few steps forward, past her and closer to the door, reluctantly moving away from his mate. Then he glanced at Cassian and Azriel, nodding towards the door, silently indicating that he had to leave.

Cassian huffed through gritted teeth, disappointed that he wouldn't be able to stay with his soulmate longer, then he looked at her and relaxed. She was so cute. Damn, he couldn't stand being away from her for much longer. He didn't even feel like he could breathe without her anymore. These weeks away from her had already been pure torture when they didn't even know each other. He needed to touch her so much. He slowly closed the distance between her and him and then gently took her in his arms, jealous of what Azriel had done previously. He put his hands on her back, pulling her closer to him, furtively placing his nose on the top of her head to breathe in her scent. He had to stop himself from growling. Her scent tickled him all over.

Luxiana's eyes widened, throwing her hands up in the air next to Cassian, surprised by his gesture. Was this fae hugging her? She had frozen but as she was about to come out of her stupor to hug him back, feeling far too comfortable in his arms not to, Cassian quickly released her, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable.

He put his dark pupils into the blonde's electric blue eyes, his hands on her shoulders. "Don't fall and don't start a fight." He smiled at her tenderly before looking her over one last time and then releasing her to stand next to Rhysand.

Azriel stood in front of the blonde, placing his index finger under her chin to force her to raise her head towards him and look him in the eyes. The blonde blushed a little more under the intensity of his gaze and his gesture, making Azriel smile. He slowly leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead, his lips barely brushing the blonde's skin, too afraid to scare her. "If anything happens to you, I won't be happy, so be careful."

Luxiana shivered again, her eyes shining in surprise as the three Illyrians turned invisible and exited the room. Nesta gave her one last look of disdain before closing the door, allowing Luxiana to let out a huge breath. What had just happened here? Besides, she needed a new butter knife now.

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